Conspiracies
by Airin9
Summary: When Sherlock was sent by his brother to sign a peace treaty with the newly Crowned King Arthur of Camelot, he certainly did not suspect what and who awaited him there. Enemies form alliances, kingdoms are in peril, and a raven-haired boy rediscovers his past.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone!**

**The plot bunnies that inspired me for this crossover between Merlin and Sherlock ruthlessly attacked me after I read most of the Merlin/Sherlock archive.**

**Be warned, I love the brotherly relationship between the main characters. :)**

**I plan to write a Moriarty/Morgana alliance later in the story, but shush, spoilers :D**

**I think there are not enough of those Sherlock/Merlin crossovers (only 54! Come on, guys!)!**

**Anyway :P**

**This story is not slash.**

**The plot takes place during Camelot's era, roughly two months after Uther's death. This is not a modern, Sherlock era fic for a change! This is one of the only (or even the only one) which is entirely based in our cherished Merlin universe!**

**The Sherlock BBC series did not happen in this story because, well, it is Camelot and not London (lol :P). Just imagine a royal Mycroft :D**

**Hope you enjoy this and do not forget to review! Pretty please ! I am baking you virtual cookies!**

**Disclaimer (for the entire fic): if I owned Merlin, there would be at least ten more seasons. And if I owned Sherlock, we would not be waiting for the 4th season but for the 15th... or something like that!**

**Enough rambling, and on with the fic! Enjoy :)**

* * *

Mycroft, Sherlock and Merlin were the three sons of the King of Semloh. He had had one son each five years; Merlin was the last, by ten years younger than Mycroft. Their mother had died giving birth to her third son.

The King of Semloh was respected by his subjects; he was as close to them as a friend would be. The kingdom flourished under his reign, and everyone in all of Albion knew of the wonderful King, and talked of his generosity. King Balinor was also a dragonlord; his subjects were used to seeing the magnificent creatures fly peacefully above their heads. The dragons were a warrant of their safety, as no sane enemy would have even thought to confront such tremendous power.

The Kingdom's only enemy was Essetir. It was a southern land of mercenaries, ruled by the ruthless Moriarty; Balinor's renegade nephew.

Moriarty had always craved for power. He was madly jealous of his three younger cousins, the only in line for the throne; and suffered cruelly from not having any of his family's magical talent.

After a murder attempt against the King a few years before Merlin's birth, he had been banished from the kingdom. The traitor had taken over Essetir and prepared his revenge with the most ruthless assassins and sorcerers. He had infiltrated most of Albion's courts only a year after his banishment, and had relentlessly tried to invade Semloh since then – without much success, partly thanks to the dragons.

Brutal strength was useless against the mighty dragonlord's kingdom, and Moriarty learnt it soon enough. He was more and more inventive over the years; but his maingoal remained ending the dragons' problem by wiping out the dragonlord lineage.

When Merlin was only two years old, the King was murdered. The poison was fatal in less than five minutes. No dragon had been able to heal their lord, not even the Great Kilgharrah.

Everyone knew Moriarty was the assassin, but the grieving kingdom had had no way to attack back. They had lost their best asset: their control over the dragons.

A dragonlord's power was passed through death to the oldest son, but only if he had any magical talent. Neither Mycroft nor Sherlock had any power whatsoever. They were unusually intelligent and witty, but did not possess the required magic to access to dragonlordship. Little Merlin, on the other hand, was the most magically gifted child Albion had ever known; but he was only two at that time. Nevertheless, thanks to the tiny child's influence, the dragons stayed pacific towards the kingdom; but they never attacked Essetir back.

* * *

Three years later, the three princes went for a walk in the park behind their castle, as they did on every weekend. It was late March, but it was such a Northern region of Albion that the forest was still covered by a thick snow blanket. Merlin and Sherlock played at hide and seek while Mycroft sat in the grass with a heavy book, sighing at the sight of his brothers' childish behavior. The older prince was reading the coronation protocol again – not that he needed to. He had known the process by heart since his father's death, in case Moriarty tried to claim the throne; that way he could have been crowned in a hurry, and the traitor wouldn't have had any chance of becoming King in his stead. Luckily, there had been no such need.

The actual ceremony was going to take place in less than a week, for his sixteenth birthday, and he wanted it to go perfectly. He needed to stabilise the kingdom and make it enter a new peaceful era.

* * *

He flicked through the pages and sighed again at hearing his brothers shouting happily – he sometimes wished he could be a normal teen and play with them (not that he would admit it loud).

The sky suddenly darkened, and Mycroft looked up as if to pout at the cloud that had passed over the sun. But there was not a single cloud in the unusually dark sky. It seemed a magical shadow was laid over the forest. A oppressing sense of foreboding invaded his mind.

Alarmed, he closed his book and shouted for Merlin and Sherlock to stop playing and get back to the castle at once. Sherlock came in the clearing running, panicked: it had been Merlin's turn to hide and he was nowhere to be found. Mycroft was about to scold his brother –obviously, it was his fault- when they heard a child's shout coming from the other side of the forest. The oldest boys looked at each other in the eye, and began running as quickly as they could. There was another shout, a bit muffled this time. It came from their right. The river.

They kept running and barged in the middle of a battle. Guards had arrived before them and were fighting off a dozen of bandits, certainly hired by Moriarty. Mycroft, furious, took a sword out of his sheath and dived into battle.

Sherlock was not old enough to have his own weapon, so he grabbed a stick – not that it was much efficient against heavily armed men. He ducked to avoid a fatal hit and frantically looked around for his little brother's silhouette, without avail.

The fight was quickly over, and the bandits were captured.

The whole kingdom looked for the youngest prince for hours, which quickly moved into days, weeks, months. Six months later, no one had found Merlin, and the Lost Prince was declared dead.

* * *

Merlin was running. He laughed merrily as a fresh breeze went through his unruly black hair, pushing it out of his unusual blue eyes.

He loved winter so much!

After finishing this game, he decided he would ask Sherlock to build a snowman. Or make a snowball battle. Or skate on the iced lake. Or…

There! He would hide under this enormous twig – just big enough for him to slide under. He would have made himself invisible, but using his powers wouldn't have been fair for his non-magical brother – and he did not want to win so easily, it was no fun.

Merlin bent and rolled under the tree, leaves getting stuck in his dark hair. He put himself in a fetal position, pulling his legs against his chest and keeping them close with his arms. He giggled in excitement.

He camouflaged his hide a bit by moving some leaves and branches over him with a flash of his eyes.

Merlin shifted a little to find the most confortable position, and waited. After a few moments, Mycroft called out his name. He giggled. His older brother was playing as well!

A twig snapped behind him. But... it couldn't be Sherlock. His brother did not do that much noise whilst moving. And neither did Mycroft – uh, perhaps he did, he was certainly fat-_big_ enough-, but this wasn't him. There was someone else in the forest, and that someone did not sound friendly.

He tried to breathe as softly as he could, and risked a look out. Five men were encircling his tree. They were slowly walking towards him, eyes focused on Merlin's hiding place.

The young prince didn't find the sharpness of their swords friendly at all. He reached out with his magic, fearing what he might find out; none were sorcerers, but they had magical items in their bags. And they were armed to the teeth. He gulped at the sight of the enormous mace the tallest bandit held in his left hand.

They were surely Moriarty's men! He had heard about them, about how they attacked regularly Semloh.

One day, when Merlin was four, Moriarty had gotten into the castle. It was midnight, the bells had just rung. Merlin could not sleep: Moriarty hadn't been caught yet. The boy had heard a noise in his cupboard, and had gone to open it. He still remembered how much he had trembled during the four agonizingly frightening steps he had taken between his bed and the wardrobe.

When he had pushed himself on his toes to open the door –obviously he wasn't tall enough to reach the handle without gaining a little height, the room wasn't ergonomic at all- and someone had shoved a hand on his mouth. He had tried to scream and kick his aggressor, but there had been no use.

A mocking voice had whispered in his hear that if he didn't move, his death would be less painful – as if that was in any way comforting.

The boy had angrily bitten the man and pushed him away with his magic. The man's head had hit the side of his bed with a loud thud. Merlin had turned around to see his attacker, but there had been no one. Moriarty had magically escaped.

Merlin still had nightmares about that night, about the evil man in the cupboard – since then he had always checked his room before going to sleep. He shook himself out of his thoughts. He had to escape – he could hear his inner Sherlock telling him that _that_ fact was much obvious. He nearly giggled but bit his tongue to stop himself.

Merlin made himself invisible, and tried to get out without making any sound. But he had put leaves and branches above him, and he wasn't exactly swift –sigh-. Of course, his escape was noisy, and the bandits tried to jump on his invisible form.

Merlin ducked to avoid them, and started running towards the river, hoping to follow it back to the castle. It was the quickest way out of the forest.

Obviously, there were more men waiting there, as heavily armed as the other ones. Double sigh.

He was surrounded. The men had seen his footprints, and could hear his frantic breathing. The prince couldn't escape, and decided to give away his position, hoping that his brothers would hear him. He shouted at the top of his lungs, and lost his concentration. He became visible again. The child could hear his guards running towards him, but they were too far away.

A bandit sneaked up from behind him and put a hand on his mouth. Merlin let out a muffled yell in surprise, and couldn't help but remember his nightmares. He kicked in panic, and tried to get out of the hold. He stumbled on a rock behind him, and closed his eyes, preparing himself for the impact with cold water and pointy rocks. He knew that with this angle of fall, he would hit his head on the sharp rock he had seen before falling, and knock himself out – the intelligence of the Princes of Semloh wasn't exactly comforting in those fatidic moments. At least he wouldn't see the bandits kidnap him. Or kill him. The child, in his last seconds, wished he were somewhere, anywhere far from the bandits' clutches and their weapons.

The wind picked up; the terrified child banged his head on the river's rocks and passed out as he had predicted. But he was lying unconscious far from Semloh.

* * *

Since that day, Sherlock hadn't been the same. The formerly cheery teenager was now cold and distant. He wouldn't talk to Mycroft, thinking that if he hadn't come to the clearing before going after Merlin, he would have been on time to save him.

He had lost his mother, his father; and blamed himself for his little brother disappearance. He only had his pompous older brother left – what a consolation -, and the King certainly did not understand his emotions. Sherlock had nightmares every night, in which he heard Merlin's voice calling out for help. He would run and run and run, but get to his brother too late each time.

As soon as Sherlock was old enough, the Prince set out for the countryside, intending to forget by travelling around the kingdom and helping out his subjects. At least he would help someone. His talent for deductions was soon acclaimed by all, but Sherlock paid no attention to his recognition. He just did it to forget.

Mycroft wasn't crowned the week Merlin disappeared. He had ordered everyone to go look for his brother. During the longest six months of the history of Semloh, no-one ever stopped watching out for a five-year-old dragonlord. No-one really stopped afterwards, even when Merlin was announced dead and Mycroft reluctantly crowned King.

* * *

Far far away, at the other side of the kingdom of Essetir, a young woman was in a hurry. She was the only healer of her village, and a friend of hers was giving birth in less than a day - she had been collecting soothing plants to help the delivery.

The woman was now going back to her tiny house to boil the remedies. She was quick-walking along the calm stream that would lead her straight to her house, humming to herself, when she heard a weird windy noise and a thud coming from behind her. Where she had stepped seconds earlier was now lying a tiny child, around five years old – maybe less, as he was really small. He had an ugly gash on the back of his head which was bleeding profusely, and his clothes were as wet as if he had just dived into a river.

She was at his side by the instant, motherly worry pumping through her veins. The child had funny large ears, and hair as black as night. He was definitely peculiar. The healer shook herself and took a look at his injury. The gash wasn't deadly, but could be really nasty if badly healed. She stood up, slowly took the unconscious child in her arms, and ran back home.

The woman laid the boy in her bed, comically large for him. She cleaned the bloody gash with an old worn-out tunic, and bandaged his head with a rapidity that only the best healers could reach. Satisfied but still worried, she prepared the potions she had set out for in the first place as well as supper, and waited for the child to wake.

She was just setting the table for two when she heard a low moan coming from her bed. She nearly ran at the waking boy's side, and grabbed his hand.

The healer observed her young patient again. His clothes hadn't been stained by his blood, so she hadn't changed them. He wore a little blue jacket, a bit dusty from the forest, and but made of fine materials. Noble ones. The jacked looked really warm; warmer than the boy should need at this time of the year. He wore black trousers of the most expensive quality as well as thick brown boots.

She frowned – where did the boy come from? He wore regal clothes, yet he was alone in the forest. And he was dressed as if they were during winter. Her interrogations were stopped as the child twitched, moving from lying on his back to a comfortable side position by clumsily jerking an arm above him – his hand nearly hit the woman's face, and she yelped in surprise.

The boy slowly opened superb blue eyes, though a bit glazed over - concussion. He closed them again, surely feeling nauseous, and asked where he was. He had an eerie accent, one from the northern regions of Albion.

'You are in my house, my boy.' The woman answered. The boy fearfully twitched again and tried to move away from her. 'It's all right, you are safe here. My name is Hunith, what is yours?'

The pale boy frowned and slowly opened his eyes. He looked so lost, more than a five-year-old boy should ever be.

'I-I don't know'.

* * *

**Will Merlin ever regain his memory? :P**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

**Hi there!**

**Hope you enjoy this second chapter!**

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***cheers***

* * *

**Chapter 2 : Echos of the past**

'Up you get, Merlin!'

Gaius's voice echoed in the warlock's room. The boy moaned and tried to hide his face under his blanket. Gaius came in, and he was decided to wake his ward – as he was on every single morning.

'Merlin, I know you are awake. You are going to be late agai-' Gaius faked a cough to hide the word he had been about to pronounce, but even sleepy Merlin's ears were sharp and he groaned in protest from under the blanket.

'Anyway, you really need to get up. I've cooked you your favorite breakfast, and I want you to have enough time to eat it.'

After a few minutes more of debating whether he really needed to get up or not – why he bothered getting up to be Arthur's servant was a mystery, really-, Merlin sleepily came down to have his breakfast. Gaius smirked.

'I think it is the first time you are awake so early. You have over half an hour to get prepared.'

Merlin unceremoniously collapsed on his chair.

'Thanks a lot, Gaius. Really nice of you to –yawn- wake me up this early every _day_. Anyway, I wanted to tell you something, so at least I've got some time.'

Gaius sat down in front of his ward.

'I have known you for years, and you are a father to me; and I don't know why I never told you this before.'

'Tell me what, my boy?'

Merlin shifted uneasily – he was always secretive, and what he was about to tell Gaius he had never told anyone, not even his mother.

'You see, Hunith isn't really my mother.'

Gaius raised his eyebrows, and gestured him to continue.

'I don't remember well, but I think she found me in the forest by a stream when I was around six. Maybe a little younger. I asked her once, and she told me she found me unconscious whilst looking for medicinal plants.'

Gaius nodded.

'I had a concussion which caused me to lose my memories. I never got them back, and after a month or two of waiting if I could recall anything, Hunith decided to call me Merlin. She had heard of a foreign Lost Prince that went by this name, and she considered me as her own little Prince.'

Gaius smiled.

'I know, Merlin. She told me.'

Merlin nodded - he had expected his guardian to know, anyway.

'Thing is, I keep having those weird dreams. I can't even remember when they started, but I get them every other night.'

Gaius's right eyebrow shot up, and Merlin understood his concern.

'No, they are not like Morgana's. It is totally different. They are dreams from my past, the one I can't remember. I see myself as a young child, around five. There are always a ten-year-old boy that has the same hair as me, and an older one with brown hair and eyes – and a ridiculous pompous stance. Arthur remembers me of him, strangely enough. I think those two boys were my brothers. But I don't even know their names. I-I can't hear them when they speak. And I don't know how we got separated, and what happened to them afterwards. I wish so much I knew more.'

Merlin looked down, fidgeting his spoon.

* * *

Gaius looked deep in thought while Merlin ate his breakfast. After a few minutes, the Court Physician looked about to tell Merlin something but Arthur burst in the room - he never had any sense of good timing, anyway.

'Merlin, you idiot! What are you still doing here?'

Merlin was dumb-struck. He woke earlier than usual and the Prince was angry? –he was never happy anyway, but that was really unfair.

'Well?'

Arthur looked furious.

'But…I am not late! I even woke up thirty minutes earlier to be on time. I haven't done anything wrong!'

'Merrrlin! I had a training session this morning one hour ealier than usual. You were supposed to wake me. Because of you, Gwen and I were woken up by Gwaine, and I swear, I don't want it to happen again. Ever. Now hurry up, I've got lots of chores for you.'

Obviously, it was Merlin's fault. Again. No one had told him about this modified planning.

* * *

The manservant sighed, stood up reluctantly, and walked towards the door, arms and legs dangling, head hanging down. Gaius tried to control his laughter at the sight of such a worn-looking Merlin, and Arthur patted his servant's arched back with a condescending look - before unceremoniously pushing him out of the room without bothering to bit back his laugh.

* * *

After a long – he meant it, really long – day of chores, including scrubbing the floor till you could see your reflection in it, mending half of the prat's shirts whilst chatting with Gwen about his rotten luck, polishing all the King's swords (really there's no need for so many swords! He can't use them all at once), mucking out the stables for the third time in two days, and so many other pointless chores he didn't even have enough strength to recall them all…Merlin greeted Arthur with faked obedience as the king came back from a banquet with his best knights.

'Good evening, my Lord. I hope you are not too tired by the trying day you spent, my Greatness. I wish you enjoyed sitting on your throne and eating with your knights, my King. I have accomplished…most of the chores I was assigned, my Excellence, and even a supplement. I added a new hole in all your leather belts, and I hope the slack will be sufficient, my Majesty. Do you wish me to do something else, my G -?'-Merlin ducked to avoid Arthur's goblet, and incredibly swiftly caught it (and, no, of course he did not slow time to impress the prat). He grinned.

Arthur was as red as Camelot's crest, and Gwen was half dead of laughter, leaning agaisnt the entrance door. Merlin tried to escape the King's fury, but he was caught.

'Merrrlin, you are not getting away like that. You still have to tidy up my clothes.'

'But I already did that.' Merlin used his best outraged whining voice and mimicked horror.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head with mock-sorrow. He went behind his changing screen and a red shirt jerked out of it, landing right on Merlin's head.

'There, you see. You forgot to sort out _this_ shirt.'

Merlin scowled but put the shirt in the laundry.

'Is there anything else, prat?'

'Yes, MErrrlin. May I inform you that I am organizing the signature of the tri-kingdom peace treaty?'

'You may. Tell me, clotpole, what in the earth would be that incredibly interesting event?'

'It is a treaty that is renewed between Camelot and two other kingdoms each time there is a new king in either of the three kingdoms. As I am the new king in question' – Merlin smirked and whispered to Gwen 'That, I know. I still can't believe how much of a prat he is. It's even worse than before!' – 'I have to organise the event. And I am glad to inform you that, for once, you'll have to work, unlike now.'

'Prat'

'Idiot'

'Cabbage-head'

'Clotpole'

'Hey, that's my word.'

'I am the King, I have every right, Merrrl-'

Arthur stopped at hearing a loud thud by the door. Gwen was on the floor, holding her ribs and giggling madly - in a really unqueenly way. But, really, who acted proper in Camelot those days?

After a few minutes helping Gwen to breathe normally, Arthur ended his little speech.

'I am inviting the kingdom of Semloh and Essetir's king Moriarty.'

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed! Do not forget to review - the reviewers will get to choose the name of a character/place/anything really that will appear in this story! Thanks :D**

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**Signing out,**

**Your favorite writer, lol :)**

**Airin9**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Hi!**

**I hope you all love this chap too! You'll get some action at the end :D *clappings from overjoyed crowd of readers***

**Thanks to Hazuki Yakuza, messie23 and Vivig1212, Anonymous and Guest who alerted, reviewed and/or favorited this story – you have no idea how much I am happy to see that people enjoy this story :D**

**Vivig1212 : you'll have to wait some more to read about Sherlock's reaction when he sees his little brother ;)****I'll try to keep up to your expectations XD**

**Enjoy and do not forget to...review! :) :) :)**

* * *

The kings were supposed to arrive in three days.

Everyone in Camelot was working hard to prepare the great celebrations of peace. The castle was in ebullition, the kitchens in frenzy, the servants ran a marathon every day to clean, order the guest chambers, and clean again.

The peace treaty had to go perfectly to ensure Camelot's safety.

Merlin was walking towards Arthur's room, still wondering why he even bothered to try and be on time. It was early morning, but the King had insisted that his manservant woke him up an hour earlier than usual to prepare the festivities. Merlin was going to be on time (for once, but not that he would admit it), but Arthur would obviously find something to make him do more chores.

The warlock yawned, wondering what it felt like to have a normal night of sleep. He never slept a lot, having so much to do for the prat and for Gaius. When he went to sleep, he also had to learn some magic; and he was so invested in his studies that, despite his tiredness, he always read during two or three hours – cleverly using up most of his sleeping time –sigh-.

After waking up Arthur with his usual 'Rise and Shine!', ducking to avoid a goblet (or worse – yuck-), getting the sleepy King out of his bed by pulling his legs and making him fall on his royal backside and escaping his fury, Merlin set off for the training grounds to prepare his King's equipment for the training session – meaning preparing himself mentally for getting hit like a training dummy during two hours.

He was trying to carry Arthur's entire armour and weapons – including three swords, a jousting spear, a regular spear, maces, knives, shields of various colours and shapes; and oh, did he talk about the swords? – to the table of the training grounds when he saw a cloud of dust in the forest. People were coming towards the gates of the lower town. He frowned.

With a discreet flash of his eyes, Merlin increased his vision to observe the newcomers.

There were at least a dozen horsemen, all heavily armed, riding along a ridiculously decorated blue and gold coach. Essetir's colours. What was King Moriarty doing here this early?

He deposed Arthur's stuff on the ground with a loud thump, thought he would have to polish everything again because of his clumsiness, shrugged with defeat, and went to tell Arthur the news.

The King was already in the castle's courtyard, standing regally with Gwen at the top of the marble stairs. Arthur was obviously trying not to look surprised by the arrival of the other King, as the prat loved having the upper hand in all situations.

Merlin quickly placed himself at the left side of the bottom of the stairs, ready to fulfil his King manservant's role and carry – again – an ungrateful King's heavy belongings – he just hoped there were not too many bags.

Moriarty's coach and men entered the courtyard in a thunderous noise. Merlin uncomfortably shivered, and frowned. Why was he suddenly afraid of hooves' sound on the stone pavement? He suspected his magical sixth sense, and sighed – there was never a royal visit without an attempt against the Crown.

A burly man opened the coach's door. His face and forearms were scarred, and his hands were just huge – three times bigger than Merlin's. Ugh, not cool.

The warlock magically scanned the assembly – you could never be too prudent in Camelot.

There was a sorcerer among them! A powerful one at that. Merlin could not tell who it was, nor his intentions – the sorcerer had put a spell on himself that blocked the warlock from detecting him, and he certainly had changed his appearance too-. Anyway, Merlin was sure the sorcerer did not come to bake unicorn cookies for Gwaine.

The King of Essetir stepped out of the coach. The dark-brown-haired man was in his early thirties. He wore a fur cloak, a dark blue shirt displaying Essetir's crest weaved of golden threads, plain black trousers and shoes, and a crown that looked ridiculously large and heavy on the rather short man's head. His dark-eyes betrayed a mocking and power-craving character – not exactly the type of man Merlin would trust.

The manservant sighed and diligently went to fetch the enormous suitcases the burly man was taking down the coach – of course, it was his job to take those huge cases, that were at least as heavy as him, to the guest's chambers. And of course Arthur had assigned Moriarty a chamber at the top of the castle. Just his luck.

After carrying all the cases in front of the guest chamber's doors –using the feather-light spell he had learnt the other night, not that he would tell Gaius- Merlin knocked on Moriarty's door.

'Come in!'

Merlin pushed the door open, showing the cases behind him.

'Will that be all, your Majesty?'

The King was sitting with the burly man. They looked angry at Merlin – they had certainly been interrupted from a deep conversation. Essetir's monarch was now reading some papers, trying to look inconspicuous. He did not look once at Merlin – ungrateful prat.

'Yes. You may go.'

Moriarty had a strange voice. It held a mocking, even ironic tone. Merlin froze. It was not the first time he heard this tone.

'Well? Hurry up! Get out!'

Merlin nearly sagged at hearing that voice again. He was sure he knew it, but did not know how he could have met the King before. And the scary impression he got of the man did not invite Merlin to try and remember.

Moriarty, wondering why the idiot servant was not moving already, looked up. He arched a bored eyebrow, and opened his mouth in disdain. Merlin held his breath. Would the King recognize him?

After a few agonizing seconds, Moriarty closed his mouth and gestured to the warlock to go with an annoyed sigh. The powerful warlock nearly burst out of the room, uncontrollably ran along the corridors, trying not to bang in someone – that would be awkward; how would he explain his sudden fright?, and only stopped when he entered Arthur's room.

'Merrrlin! What did I say about knocking again?'

Arthur was back to his manservant, obviously looking for something.

Merlin closed the door with a loud snap and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, still wondering what could have provoked such a reaction.

Arthur turned around and saw his servant's distress.

'What happened to you? You saw a big spider, perhaps?,'

Interiorly, Arthur wondered what could have scared Merlin that much. It certainly took much more than a hairy spider to frighten one of the bravest man he knew – not that he would ever admit it to him.

Merlin took two long breaths, but his erratic breathing did not calm.

'Nothing.' He panted. 'It was-was nothing.'

Arthur raised his eyebrows but did not insist – he would put him on the grill later.

'Now that you are here at last, tell me where you put my red jacket. I can't find it.'

Merlin pulled himself together, thankful for the change of subject. He looked up at Arthur and smirked.

'What!?'

The boy looked insistently at Arthur.

'Merrrlin! Tell me!'

The servant stared at him with even more emphasis.

The King looked at himself.

'So, where is it? I don't se-oh, right.'

Arthur was wearing the jacket he had obviously been looking for for quite some time. Merlin burst out laughing, and ducked to avoid the goblet/jug/pillow/boot/…chamber pot?-yuck- that was flying his way.

'Anyway. That's not why I wanted to see you.' _As if_. 'I am organizing a welcoming banquet in a little committee. There will be King Moriarty, one of his ambassadors, the round table knights, Gwen, and myself. You and Moriarty's manservant will be serving the whole of us. And you are going to wear the official manservant clothes of Camelot with utmost honour, of course. Tradition is really important during those festivities.'

Arthur took out the horrid feathered hat from behind his back and threw it at Merlin, who reluctantly caught it.

'Go prepare, and be there at seven sharp.'

Merlin moaned. He did not have a good feeling about the banquet. And not only because of the hat.

At seven past two, Merlin was ready to enter the banquet hall. The whole kitchen had laughed at him – they had tried to pity him for a few seconds, but it had just been too hard. The mighty warlock looked at his despicable hat, seriously considered roasting it, but put it back on his head – what he did for the prat, seriously. He sighed.

Merlin pushed the servant's door open and discreetly went to Arthur's side. Moriarty's manservant was already there, filling the two Kings' goblets with wine.

Arthur, who look bored out of his mind, threw him a sharp look, pointing at the other servant: 'See, here is a good servant that arrives on time.' Merlin tried not to roll his eyes in front of the guests – it wasn't his fault he was late, it was the hat's.

Gwen was chatting pleasantly with Moriarty and his ambassador – Merlin nearly crippled his nose in horror –, and the Knights tried not to look too bored. Everything seemed totally normal.

The warlock tried to shake off his head the foreboding feeling he had had for the entire day.

Arthur took a sip of his wine.

Merlin tensed.

Moriarty smirked.

The Knights stopped their chatting.

Arthur began coughing blood. His eyes rolled in their sockets.

Everyone was petrified. Merlin was first to regain movement, and was at Arthur's side by the instant. The King was not dead yet, but his pulse was weakening by the second.

He yelled at the visiting king – it could only be him anyway, and the smirk Moriarty had plastered on his evil face was a sufficient proof of his guilt.

'What did you do? Which poison is it?'

The knights confusedly stood up to catch the treacherous King, but were thrown back by an invisible force. Merlin sighed. The sorcerer was the black-haired and clear blue-eyed 'ambassador' of Essetir.

Moriarty smirked again. It was becoming predictable.

'This is the Oefgon poison. There is only one flower able to cure it. The species is so rare there is only one place where you can find it. I went there and took all the flowers. But fear not. I've got the antidote.'

Gwaine growled.

'You're lying. There must be other flowers of the same species! Why would we listen to you?'

'Perhaps I lied. Perhaps not. But anyway, the poison takes only five minutes to kill. So even if I was lying about the flowers, you have no way to heal your King in time.'

Merlin was panicking. Moriarty spoke the truth. Arthur was really dying, he could feel his pulse weakening by the second. And there was nothing he could do - he was bad at healing magic. Shabby. Shoddy.

He stopped his mental rambling – it always happened to him when he panicked.

'What do you want?'

'Oh…What I want is simple, really. I am going to give the antidote to Arthur only if someone here surrenders without fighting.'

Merlin cringed. He did not like where this blackmailing was going.

'Who do you want?'

'I want Emrys.'

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**Mwahaha. I am so evil XD**

**I hope you are still enjoying the story :) Do not forget to review!**

**I'll bake you all virtual Gwaine's unicorn cookies if you do!**

**Until next chapter!**

**Airin9**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Bonjour, mes chers lecteurs :)**

***waves at readers shooting me blank looks***

**Yes, that was French :) (It means 'Hello, my dear readers')**

***cheers from the crowd***

**Here is s****ome action! I hope you enjoy :D**

**Don't forget to review at the end!**

**Thanks again to all who favorited or followed or reviewed this story!**

* * *

**_-Previously-_**

_'__Who do you want?'_

_'__Emrys.'_

Arthur coughed more blood and began convulsing. Despite all the warlock's effort to soothe the King with some discreet healing magic, there was no improvement.

'Tick Tock, goes the clock, you have two minutes left...'

Moriarty seemed to be enjoying this. His eyes shone with pure madness as he sing-sang his little annoying tune. He bit in his meat with a horrible flesh-tearing noise.

The manservant was sweating, trying to hold back his powers from lashing on Moriarty. Even If his chances to get out of this without revealing his magic were drastically low, his instincts were still reining his powers in.

'I am Emrys!'

Gwaine took a step forward with a resolute look on his face. He did not look back as the other knights gaped at him. The secret warlock knew what he had to do.

'I surrender. I will do anything you want. Just give Arthur the antidote.'

Moriarty looked at his ambassador – the hidden sorcerer – and nodded.

'Acwele!'

The sorcerer sent a blast of dark magic towards Gwaine. A deadly one. Gwaine knew it; he had traveled in countries where magic was allowed, and this was a curse no one, even with magic, could avoid or stop. The knight boldly watched his death coming towards him, closing his eyes and putting his mouth in a firm line.

The blast was stopped a few inches before Gwaine by a thin blue force field. The knight hesitantly opened his eyes, wondering why he was not dead already and gasped.

The manservant's eyes were still shining gold, his hand outstretched towards him. His face was an interesting mix of panic, worry, resignation and fury.

Moriarty smirked and took a sip of wine.

'So you are Emrys? I was expecting better than a manservant, to be honest. Nevertheless, who would have expected the most powerful warlock of the world to be such an idiotic boy? Really clever cover indeed.'

The warlock was having none of the twisted compliments. He wished he could have roasted the man on the spot, as much as that would usually horrify him. But Arthur was dying, and only Moriarty had the antidote – he'll wait a bit more before making a barbecue.

'I surrender. Now give Arthur the antidote.'

The King of Essetir laughed.

'I have no antidote. There is none. I have to admit it is a pity to sacrifice Arthur to find you; I had other plans for him. But life is life. And now I've got you. I can put kingdom to their knees with your magic.'

'There must be something to cure him. You're lying!'

'I am not.' He smirked. 'Tick tock, goes the clock, the King is passing away. Tick tock, goes the clock, and now we say good bye.'

The warlock tried to ignore the mad man's song. He took a long breath and put both his hands on Arthur's weak and bloody chest. Moriarty was right; Arthur only had moments.

The manservant closed his cerulean eyes and thought of all the healing spells he knew. He invoked them all at the same time, reciting them in his head. His hands shone gold on his friend's chest.

The warlock could feel his King regaining some strength; but the poison, enhanced by the darkest of magics, was fighting back. The two forces banged, poison against pure magic, and the shock radiated around Merlin. A blinding light invaded the room.

It was a fight for the Once and Future King's life.

His healing magic was not enough. He could feel the poison adapt and win. With a shout, he tried to heal Arthur again, but it was useless. The King died; but the warlock would not let go that easily. He recalled all the good times he had spent in Camelot, the meaning of his powers and destiny, his friendship with the dead man in front of him. The boy let out a single tear.

The poison, at the contact of the pure sorrow, recoiled. The warlock yelled and pushed his swirling emotions – dread, affection, hope- towards his friend. All traces of the dark magic vanished against his raw will. Arthur breathed in.

The blinding light that had invaded the banquet hall disappeared, letting everyone acknowledge the enormous power the manservant had just wielded. The warlock was still kneeling by the King's side, checking a stirring Arthur all over.

The knights and Gwen were flabbergasted, eyes wide and awed – finding out Merlin had magic was surprising, but this? It was utterly unbelievable.

Moriarty's sorcerer, though, was not surprised in the slightest. He sneaked behind the gaping manservant, surprised at what he had just accomplished.

No one was quick enough to stop what ensued.

The antimagic shackles were clapped on the warlock's wrists with a dreadful metallic noise.

The warlock let out a single unearthly scream. Raw power erupted from him, but was contained by the bounds. His magic bounced against them, and hit him full square. He collapsed at Arthur's side, and passed out; his body twitched uncontrollably, trying to assimilate back the enormous power he had unleashed without control. After an awful long time, the unconscious boy finally stilled.

Arthur opened his eyes at the commotion, and saw his friend unconscious by his side. He shouted.

'Merlin! What have you done to him?'

Moriarty, who had been enjoying his victory from his seat while eating a chicken wing, let the wine glass he was holding in his left hand fall with a loud thump.

'_Merlin_?'

He stood up and was by the fallen warlock in the blink of an eye, looking down at the boy's body. He was lying on his belly, face flat against the cold stones.

Moriarty lifted his leg and turned the boy over with his right foot, letting his face be clear to all. Arthur choked back a protesting yell.

The otherwise confident villain looked taken aback. He whispered, eyes wide.

'But…this is him. I thought I had killed the Prince. This is Merlin!' He let out a sickly excited giggle. 'But that means…'

He smirked and straightened up.

'This is going to be so much more interesting that I thought!'

Arthur did not understand the scene in front of him. He had been poisoned – that much he had understood- and now that he woke up his manservant -seemingly a Prince?- was unconscious by his side. And Moriarty had even talked about taking over the world with Merlin. Uh-uh.

Moriarty's sorcerer was jubilating while he crept behind Arthur, who was pinching his arm to check if he was really awake.

The king's world went black as he received a well-adjusted kick in the head.

* * *

**Mwahaha!**

**Poor Arthur and Merlin! What will happen to them? dun dun DUUUUUUUN x)**

***ducking to avoid tomatoes from anxious readers***

**Do not forget to review!**

**See ya all on the next page :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Hi! I am sorry for the delay - school started up again, and it's quite mad already :) *sympathetic smiles from the crowd***

**I fear it will be the same for the rest of the month (I'll try to update twice a week or something like that) :D**

_**later update: I think I was being a little too optimistic about that xD *expertly dodging rotten potatoes***_

**Another Camelot-centered chapter! But fear not, you'll soon get to see Sherlock!**

Moriarty's ambassador smirked. He waved his arm above the fallen King, and with a flash of his eyes, magically bound him.

The Knights and Guinevere were trying to break through the paralyzing and silencing spell he had put on them – they wouldn't succeed in getting out, that much was certain. There was no one to protect them now.

He looked at his accomplice. Moriarty was still staring at Merlin with surprise. The sorcerer shrugged - he would ask him about his reaction at hearing the servant's name later.

He whispered a counter spell and regained his normal appearance.

Gwen was fighting against her bounds. She couldn't quite believe how much had happened during the last five minutes. Her swirling emotions made her feel slightly dizzy, but she kept fighting while analyzing them. Worry for her husband and best friend. Amazement at discovering Merlin's magic and witnessing his incredible power. Frustration because of her helplessness. Rage against Moriarty and his sorcerer. Surprise at Moriarty's reaction to Merlin's name, and wonder about what his speech implied. Fear at thinking about what was going to happen to Camelot.

She watched as her husband was treacherously knocked out by the smirking sorcerer. She frowned – it wasn't the first time she saw such a satisfied smirk.

The sorcerer whispered a spell under his breath; his appearance shifted. His hair grew, he lost a few inches, but his smirk stayed the same. After a few seconds, all could see Morgana standing above her brother, eyes wild with madness.

Gwen and the knights fought even more against the bounding spell, with no avail.

They could only witness as the witch began a long dreadful litany, hands above her head. The skies darkened and a storm blew above the city as her mad eyes blazed a dirty gold. They could hear the people's shouts at the unnatural tempest. When Morgana uttered the last word, Camelot was definitely lost. The people fell under the witch's possession. Their eyes were her eyes, their words her words, their acts her will.

Gwen watched as the knights were possessed as well, one by one. She cried as the panicked light in their eyes went out. She was the last to be plunged into oblivion.

Morgana watched with gleeful eyes as Arthur's loyal knights roughly locked up their unconscious King and Emrys in the King's own cells.

Smirking, the witch went to her old chambers, passing by the main corridor and walking along her possessed minions. It had been a long time since she had been able to walk in Camelot without fear. She passed through her doors. They were being guarded by Arthur's own knights – Gwaine and Percival. She sat on her bed, waiting for Moriarty to come in. The door was flung open.

'Everything went according to plan. I told you Emrys would be powerful enough to cure the poison.'

Moriarty nodded absently.

'Yes, indeed. Phase one was a success.'

'Tell me, Moriarty. What was your reaction about Emrys's name about? Need I worry?'

The King of Essetir shook out of his thoughts and smirked.

'Not at all. It just so happens that Merlin is my little cousin, the one I had thought was killed by my men at age five.'

'You mean…'

'Merlin is the last dragonlord, the Lost Prince of Semloh.'

Morgana yelled, flying her hands above her head, and Moriarty couldn't help but step back. The rooom's windows exploded, and all the candles were taken out by the cold winter wind.

'A _dragonlord_!? But you know perfectly well the only spell to possess someone and his _powers_ do not work on dragonlords! The powers of Emrys would have been sufficient to take down the dragons of Semloh! Why did the idiot have to be a dragonlord too? We have to find another way of conquering Semloh, the last standing kingdom of Albion!'

A mirror exploded at the other side of the room.

'But there is another way. We don't even need to use strength.'

Morgana nearly pouted, crossing her arms in expectation.

'Arthur will sign the handover of his kingdom to me-_you_-, as we planned. And we've got an easier way of taking Semloh down.'

Morgana's fist hit her bedtable, which broke under the magically-increased strength. She was fuming. Moriarty played with her thin nerves.

'What is it?'

Moriarty smugly drew a wooden chair from under Morgana's dressing table and sat down. He crossed his legs, looked at his nails, and smirked.

'We will use Merlin as hostage, of course. If Mycroft does not abdicate, we will act in consequence against their little Lost Prince.' He sing-sang the last words in sick glee.

'Ah! But pray tell, how are we going to prove Mycroft that Merlin is still alive after fifteen years?'

'Well, here is the best part. Arthur didn't only invite Essetir for this peace treaty. Semloh is also coming. Either Mycroft or his younger brother Sherlock will get here in less than three days, and we will have two hostages against their kingdom. They will not dare to try something sneaky to free them. Albion will be ours at last!'

'Alright. I am letting you capture him. If you fail, you'll feel my wrath.' Her mirror exploded behind Moriarty, who pushed away the broken glass from his royal clothes.

The King's eyes glinted with rage at this outspoken threat, but he did not argue back. Best not to against such a powerful and mad sorceress, who had just destroyed half her chambers. He left the gloating witch alone with her dark thoughts and broken furniture.

* * *

Merlin woke up to a blinding headache. He couldn't quite remember how he had gotten his entire body to hurt that much. And something metallic was irritably clanging at his side. How had he gotten into Camelot's cells?_ Did Arthur know about his magic?_

The banquet's events came back to him. He lived them for the second time as vividly as if he were there again, and couldn't help but shiver and moan.

Someone was calling out his name. It was Arthur. The King hadn't seen Merlin performing magic, but surely someone from the banquet had told him since then. The warlock deduced Moriarty and his sorcerer had been stopped by the Knights. Merlin had certainly been arrested and thrown in jail whilst he was unconscious, and now the ungrateful prat was coming to take him to the pyre.

The King's voice was insistent. The clotpole couldn't let him laze about, even in his last moments. Merlin reluctantly opened his eyes.

He was indeed in Camelot's cells, chained up with magic-suppressing shackles – uncontrollable shiver-, but everything was not exactly as he had thought.

Arthur was chained to the opposite wall. The King's bounds were too short for him to reach Merlin, so Arthur was standing as close to Merlin as he could. He looked worried, but there was something else bothering him.

The warlock moaned to signal his awareness and get Arthur to stop calling his name and increasing his headache.

'Are you alright, Arthur?'

'I feel as if I had just been poisoned, but that's to be expected. You?'

'I am okay.'

'Don't lie to me. You are far from looking your usual annoying self.'

'Thanks, clotpole. I feel as though all your horses have trampled on me one by one. And I've got quite a headache. But I'll be alright. Is there something bothering you?'

Arthur gestured to the cell and rolled his eyes.

'I mean, apart from being locked up in your own cells?'

The King groaned – count on Merlin to point out the embarrassing elements of their predications. Nevertheless, he shifted awkwardly and avoided Merlin's gaze.

'When I woke up, you were unconscious by my side. I called out your name. Moriarty, who had been talking about how he was going to take over the world with your help,' – Arthur snorted, pretexting obliviousness, but carefully observed Merlin as he looked away – 'stood up and took a closer look at you. He recognized you and rambled on how he thought he had killed you.'

Merlin looked at Arthur with a frown, but Arthur could swear there was a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. And of fear. The King of Camelot took a long breath, and calmly asked:

'Do you have magic, Merlin?'

He hadn't been expecting the boy's reaction. Merlin sagged and started trembling, looking away. He let out a shuddering breath and tried to pull himself together.

'What makes you think that?'

'Moriarty believes you are the Lost Prince of Semloh.'

'I am not.' He didn't sound as if he really believed himself.

'Are you Hunith's son, Merlin?'

The boy grabbed his legs, pulling them close to his chest. He closed his eyes.

'I-I am not. My mother-_Hunith_ found me in the forest when I was around five. I was unconscious because of a gash on the head. When I woke up, I found out I had lost my memories. I didn't even know my own name. She waited some weeks to see if I regained some memories and remembered my name, but as I didn't, she decided to name me after the Lost Prince she had heard about. But I can't be him: she found me unconscious miles away from Semloh, in the south of Essetir, on the exact day he disappeared. No one could possibly travel that far in a single day.'

Arthur frowned. Merlin definitely didn't sound convinced, and the King wasn't letting it go.

'You haven't answered my first question. Have you got magic?'

His manservant-no, _friend_\- bore his eerie blue eyes in Arthur's. He looked sad, even resigned. Straightening up, he calmly spoke:

'I do.'

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**Reveal time :D**

**I love reviews (hint hint) :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Hi everyone!**

**Yesterday I engaged a staring contest with the double of Benedict Cumberbatch.**

**I went to a classic music concert, and I sat in the first row. The clarinetist was playing right in front of me during the whole show; and he looked just like Sherlock. ****Naturally I did not stop staring at him – I mean, so much that I think he thought I was a psycho– or that he had a really big red spot on his nose. But really, the resemblance was astonishing – even the mannerism is the same! The clarinetist had the same wrinkles while frowning, the same smile, the same shape of eyes, everything.**

**I looked on internet if I could find a picture on which he looked like Benedict Cumberbatch, but I didn't find any. Pity ^^ I wanted to show my fellow readers my discovery!****  
**

**So, when he stood up during the ovation, I was still staring at him and gaping at the resemblance like a goldfish – and a rather stupid/psycho at that. ****He was looking over at the whole public when he saw I _still_ hadn't stopped staring at him for no reason, so he started looking at me too. I stared at him for a few more moments, and he kept looking too, so I looked away for like three long seconds, and tried to find some interest in my clapping hands.**

**I glanced sidelong at him to see if he was still looking at me, and _he was_. He was even biting his lip and trying not to laugh. I stared back during the whole ovation, and our staring contest was only broken when the musicians left the scene. It was really funny and awkward at the same time.**

**And that was only at the break between the two parts. I don't even know how I made it out of the second one without bursting out laughing.**

**Anyway. That made me think I had to write a chapter with Sherlock, so here it is :D**

***cheering crowd***

**Hope you enjoy and remember that I love reviews! *winking***

**Thanks for reading!**

**Oh, and thanks again to all who reviewed this story: Souffle Girl in a Blue Box (I love your user name by the way), IndiaMoore, Vivig1212, messie23 and as well as Anonymous and Guest :) And thanks for alerting, following and favoriting this story!**

* * *

Sherlock was currently staying in a tavern near Essetir's border. He had already solved some cases this week near the Easter coast, and had now had to move to another region so that Mycroft wouldn't be able to find him. He wished his ennoying brother would stop looking for him someday. It was getting ridiculous.

He was awoken by a sudden tremor coming from the restaurant room downstairs. From what he gathered, a man was looking for his seven-year-old boy that had disappeared the night before. Ahah! It was not the first time he heard this since he had settled in the region.

Smelling a good opportunity to get sword training, Sherlock grabbed his cloak and left the tavern.

A crying woman was sitting on a bench by the door, looking completely exhausted.

Sherlock sat by her.

'I know you are responsible of the seventeen children's disappearances that have been happening since the beginning of the month. Now, there's no need to try and escape, as you are not quick enough for me. Where were you yesterday at fifteen past seven?"

The woman looked utterly horrified at Sherlock's accusation and spluttered out, trembling:

'I-I was in my house, cooking dinner.' She hesitantly looked at him. 'I cooked some stew made of we-but that's-it's not important. My son was playing with the o-other children of the village in front of my house as he did on-on every evening before eating and going to sleep.' She burst into tears, but swallowed down and bravely continued. 'I heard a horse coming down the only street of the village. It certainly was the one we use for our harvests. But that's not the point. I went out to tell my kid to come for dinner but the children had dis-disappeared.' Sherlock frowned. 'I am innocent, I swear! I just want my little Tommy back!'

Alarmed by his wife's cries, the man from the tavern ran out of the building to check on her, brandishing a poorly sharpened sword.

Sherlock was already far. He was running after the slave traders that had kidnapped the children – the traces in the mud indicated the horse that had passed through the village drew a heavy carriage behind him, a carriage plenty of children. As for the direction, he ran south, to Essetir – the last kingdom of Albion where slavery was still allowed.

After finding a poorly concealed track – poorly for a detective of his level anyway – he evaluated the battle strength of his opponents. Seven men, and not weapon experts – pity, he needed some serious training. Some children were bound and going to Essetir by foot – his skin crawled at the thought of it-, and the youngest were in a cage drawn by the horse – it was a young white horse, that had been stolen three days before.

Sherlock just needed to get a weapon to force the cage's lock open. Mycroft had ordered him to always have a weapon on him, so naturally, he did not carry any. Not even a toothpick – and yes, it was a weapon, and a sharp one at it.

After a few hours of quick-walking after the bandits, he finally caught up with them.

The kidnapped children were all aged seven or older. Except for a little dark-headed one, that was exactly as old as Merlin when he was attacked. His brown innocent eyes widened when he spotted Sherlock, who was kneeling behind a tree. The Prince raised his finger to his mouth to shush the child, and the kid nodded in understanding. He looked as innocent as Merlin. Sherlock's cold heart beat faster.

He decided he would not go easy on the traders.

There were indeed seven bandits – satisfied smirk of Sherlock – his deductions were as accurate as ever. He quickly examined them all.

The bandit leading the horse had broken his leg at age twelve, and still limped slightly on his right side. The traumatism could be revived by a good angled kick. There were two traders walking around the cage and examining the kids greedily. Both planned to kill the other one and get the money raised by selling the children. The bandit walking behind them had a broken wrist. The young girl in the cage had bit him so deep the bone had been broken. Good point to the red-haired girl. The bandit walking at the back of the pack was half deaf and blind.

There were also two sorcerers, but those wouldn't be a problem. They did not even carry a normal weapon. He smirked – this would be a nice fight.

Sherlock sneaked behind the deaf bandit and knocked him out with a sharp blow to the temple. The man crumbled without a sound.

Sherlock fell in pace behind the bandits while deciding his course of action.

The bandit walking before him was the broken wristed one. His left hand rested on his sword sheath. Right.

Sherlock jumped on him. He grabbed the swollen hand and squeezed it. The man shouted in pain, and tried to get his attacker's hand off his. Sherlock took out the unprotected sword and hit the man's head with its hilt.

The convoy had stopped at the commotion, and now the traders were surrounding Sherlock.

One of the would-be leaders attacked him. The Prince snorted. It would take much more than a poorly trained bandit to take him down. A child shouted – the little one. He ducked, avoiding the blow, and attacked back with renewed fury. He knew he would win. Semloh's fighters were known and feared in all Albion. Their technique was unique. The sword and the fighter had to be one, fighting around multiple foes in a deadly choreography. Sherlock had perfected his technique long ago, and no one had ever been able to overpower him since then.

He parried another hit, and turned on himself, his black cloak flying around him as he danced around the battle. He drove his sword through the second leader that had treacherously been sneaking behind him– really, this was so obvious. The other leader was already trying to impale him. Sherlock lifted his leg and crushed the man's nose with his foot. The bandit ran away from him, shouting to the sorcerers to do something.

Sherlock nearly giggled. This was his favorite part.

The first sorcerer stepped in front of him, shouting with big grotesque movements:

'Acwele!'

Ah, the villains' favorite spell.

The Prince stared without blinking as the lethal spell was shot in his direction. He calmly raised his hand. The blast went around him, avoiding him as if it were pushed away by an invisible forcefield.

Sherlock had always been bestowed with this magic-repressing shield. No magic had ever been able to affect him unless he wanted to. And since Merlin's disappearance he had never allowed anyone's powers to go near him.

The magic hit the second sorcerer, and the Prince knew without bothering to turn around that he was dead by the second. Sherlock smirked as his attacker's eyes went wide. Five down, two to go.

He brandished his sword and rushed forward the gaping sorcerer. He regained his composure and shouted every spell he knew to shield himself from the magic-protected man. Sherlock inexorably advanced towards him, going through every shield the sorcerer put around himself without breaking a sweat. He was about to run him through when the sorcerer transported away. _Interesting_. It was the first time Sherlock fought against a sorcerer powerful enough to teleport. That was neat. His ability seemed to work even on the most powerful sorcerers.

The last trader, the limping man, had climbed on the horse. He rode away, pulling the cage and the children behind him.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

The road led to the edge of the forest. If he took a shortcut through the thick forest, he would get to the end of the forest on time.

Not sparing a look at the dead or injured bandits, he dived into the thick forest, bending under the branches, jumping over the bushes, running to save the children.

He found himself on the road before the edge of the forest. The carriage had been quicker than him, and was ahead.

He did not stop to catch his breath.

He was inches away from the children when a hooded man stepped in front of the carriage. The bandit was flung off his horse, which had stopped dead in front of the man. The trader got up and tried to escape, but the man shot him dead with a crossbow bolt. Lestrade put down his weapon and pulled down his hood. He grinned at a scowling Sherlock, who was certainly disappointed not to have landed the final blow. The Prince shrugged, broke the cage's lock with a well-adjusted sword blow, and helped the children out of it.

'Your Majesty! Are you alright?'

Sherlock grumped as he lifted the youngest child, the one that remembered him of Merlin, on the bandit's horse. The kid giggled.

'These children were kidnapped during the last weeks by slave traders. Mycroft should have sent you and your knights to save them. Tell him I am not doing all the job in his stead.'

'Sherlock! He didn't know about the bandits. You should not have gone after them alone. There were sorcerers in this group, and -'

He was panicked, wondering why his Prince went after those bandits alone.

'Lestrade, stop panicking. I am alright, see." He sighed. "Didn't Mycroft tell you? Sorcerers cannot do anything to me.'

The head knight shook his head, appalled at such an obvious recklessness.

'Sire, forgive me, but this is preposterous.'

Sherlock sighed and fastened his walk, pulling the horse behind him. The children were sitting in the cage and enjoying the ride home.

Lestrade, who had lent his horse to three of the children, was trying to keep up with his peculiar prince. He sighed fondly – what had his Prince thought by attacking those bandits alone?

The older knight was now running to keep up with his pouting prince's long legs. Sherlock took his breath.

'Believe me. Magic cannot affect me unless I want it too.'

'How-?'

'Don't know yet, working on it. Now, if you would go back and tell Mycroft I am not going anywhere for him.'

He gaped. 'How could you possibly know what I am going to ask you?'

'Why would he have bothered to send his head knight alone to fetch me except for making me travel in his lazy stead?'

'Right. As usual, you are right. You are meant to get to Camelot in two days' time to sign a -.'

'-peace treaty. I know.'

'As I was saying, you are already near Essetir, so you could get to Camelot on time, but you obviously already know that.' Sherlock did not even bother to nod. 'And you know that if I have to go back to the castle to tell the king to go in person, your brother will never be there in two days. You have to go for the sake of the kingdom. There is an escort waiting for you two miles north, in the tavern you slept.'

They entered the children's village. Heavy rain was falling on them and soaking the Prince's travel clothes. Sherlock did not even look like he had noticed – here again, you never know what he is thinking.

The parents got out of their house, and the children ran into their opened arm with happy shouts. The villagers acclaimed the two men that had saved their children.

Sherlock didn't even look like he was even listening to the praises, and Lestrade was getting increasingly annoyed by the unresponsive attitude of his Prince.

'Sherlock?!'

'Alright, I'll go. But first'

He addressed the whole village:

'I hope you'll manage without me. Have a nice rainy day.'

He mounted the bandit's horse under the flabbergasted peasants' stares and rode away alone.

So much for the Prince's waiting escort in the tavern.

Lestrade shook his head and smiled. Sherlock would never change.

* * *

**Please review and tell me what you think of this story :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_'Do you have magic, Merlin?'_

_'I do.'_

Arthur, in spite of the events, had not really been expecting such an answer. He had always known there was something about Merlin, but he hadn't thought he was enough of an idiot to do magic in Camelot. Seriously, magic in Camelot.

'I-I am sorry, Arthur.'

His King looked up with barely concealed emotions – though there were so many Merlin couldn't really know what he thought.

'I know I should have told you. I never used magic for evil, I swear.'

The King growled.

'You are a sorcerer! You are evil! How could you betray me like that?'

'I am not a sorcerer. I am a warlock! And yes, there is a huge difference, dollophead! I never had a choice!'

'You have chosen to learn magic. It is proof enough of your corruption!'

'I didn't learn magic! I always had it – I am almost certain I was born with it.'

'It isn't possible.'

'It is. My magic flows through me as your blood does in you. Erm…that sounded weird. I do have blood too, if you are wondering. Anyway.'

Arthur did not calm down.

'Then why aren't you zapping yourself out of here like the filthy _sorcerer_ you are?'

'_Warlock_! And first, I would never _ever_ think of leaving you here. And anyway, those manacles suppress my magic. I can't use it anything with them on. It is quite annoying really, because they itch a lot. And they give me quite a headache.'

Arthur was silent for a moment.

'I would never use my powers against you or Camelot.'

The King's voice was hoarse.

'Why wouldn't you? My father hunted down your kind for years.'

'You are not your father; and even if you are a prat, you are my best friend. And the Druids have a prophecy about you.'

'Really?'

'You are the Once and Future King, the greatest monarch that will ever live. You are also meant –' He hesitated – perhaps Arthur wasn't ready for this.

'Yes?'

It was now or never.

'-to restore magic to this land with the help of Emrys.'

'Oh! I remember now. Gaius told me the story when I was young. So you think I am the Once and Future King. Then, who is Emrys?'

Really, Arthur's obliviousness was reaching new heights. Merlin was about to roll his eyes when the cells doors was banged open.

The warlock jumped in surprise. He usually felt people before seeing them - it was what Arthur called his 'funny feelings', and not having his magic foresight was quite unsettling. He wondered what it was like not to be magic. _It must be so boring._

Morgana stepped in - of course, it was only now that he deduced the ambassador had been her all along. He should have known.

'Well, well, Emrys.'

She smirked as Arthur gasped.

'You are Emrys? But…'

'Yes, Arthur. He is. Anyway. This was all very interesting. Any other revelations you want to share with us, Merlin?'

The servant stared back with challenge in his eyes.

'No, that will be all for today. But if you want a piece of my mind, just unlock those bounds.'

She smirked.

'Really, Merlin? Is that all you've got? You really think I care for cheeky provocations. I have to say I didn't quite believe my eyes when you revealed your magic. You being Emrys was just laughable. And I still can't believe the mighty warlock was an idiot manservant all along. But then I thought of how you poisoned me' Arthur gasped again, and Morgana smirked 'and everything was clear. Emrys is a traitor to his kind. Now that's not why I am here.'

Merlin was about to explain his reasons to Arthur - but the witch wanted doubt to instil itself between her prisoners, and Merlin was not to have a chance to explain his actions. She waved her hand and thickly gagged the servant. He shouted but she flung him against the wall. He hit his head with a loud bang and passed out.

She turned around. Her helpless brother was trying to get to his manservant, but his chains were not long enough. She laughed and shortened the bounds even more, so that he could not move around at all. He shouted in indignation.

She smirked, and with a flash of her eyes, brought him to his knees.

'I need you to sign this paper. You see, I want to be a legitimate Queen, and I don't wish to kill you _yet_. It would be no fun.'

'I'll never hand you over my kingdom. You'll never get my assent.'

She laughed and waved him off.

'You _really_ are counting on your knights and my traitor of a maid to rescue you. Well, you can wait for a long time then. They are not coming.'

'What have you done to them?'

'The whole city is under my control. Your Queen does not even control her own thoughts. I know what she is doing at the moment, for I make her do it. I have possessed your people, and there is nothing you can do to get them back.'

Morgana laughed again. She turned around, her black dress swirling around her, and went to stand over Merlin. The manservant was still out cold. She kicked him in the ribs, which broke with a sickening crack, jolting Merlin into consciousness. He tried to let out a yell but shocked on the gag, and was left gasping for air. Tears welled at the corner of his eyes.

The witch laughed at Merlin's poor attempts to bit back his moans and went to the door. Before she closed it, she let the two prisoners see that their guardians were none other than Elyan and Leon.

'Sleep well, Pendragon, for you will need it.'

The door was closed in a loud bang.

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**:)**

**Review!**

**If anyone is interested by beta-ing this story, please tell me. I seriously need some double-checking :)**


	8. Chapter 8

***creeps around the corner, then waves hesitantly***

**Hi everyone!**

**I know, it's been nearly a month (a month minus a day!). It is entirely my fault!**

**I'll update quicker next time!**

**Anyway, I am going to be late for my biology class so have a nice time reading this and REVIEW !**

* * *

_Sleep well, Pendragon!_

* * *

The door was closed in a loud bang.

Arthur fumbled around his shackes, trying to get to his friend again. It was useless. He couldn't even twitch his heavily chained legs.

Merlin was lying on his back, trying to catch his breath. He was shivering, letting out pitiful moans now and then.

Arthur stopped to analyse his feelings. Never head towards a situation without having set your mind, that's what his father always told him.

He contemplated his emotions, and within seconds understood that Merlin-Emrys-whatever was his same idiotic friend than the day before. The only difference was that now Arthur knew a bit more about his lazy manservant.

* * *

Merlin couldn't breathe. The gag Morgana had used was boring deep into his mouth, blocking him from taking in airy. He could only make whizzing sounds as he tried to put himself in the less painful position and ease his cracked ribcage.

His chest was on fire. He had already broken a rib or two, but this was a new level of pain. He didn't even dare to probe his ribcage to know how many bones Morgana had broken. There was no use - he was almost certain that not a single rib had resisted her kicks.

He let out a pitiful moan, and bit his lip to stop another groan.

Far away, past the clouded haze of pain that monopolised his mind, he could hear Arthur calling out for him with barely concealed concern.

Merlin wanted to reassure him, but he had not enough energy to talk. He twitched, shaking his horribly painful ribs, and hesitantly tried to take a new breath through the filthy cloth that blocked his mouth. He shocked.

He couldn't breathe. It was just too hard to move his chest. He gasped, trying to gulp some precious mouthful of air. He was beginning to see black dots, and knew that if he did not find a solution, he was going to die in the next minutes, in this cell. And no one would be able to save Arthur if he died.

The magic-suppressing shackles heatened up as his panicked powers tried to heal his ribs. The shackles stopped him from using his magic on his environment, but he imagined that perhaps, just perhaps, he could use it on himself. Perhaps he could heal himself! He hoped his powers would co-operate, because even without shackles his healing magic randomly -let's be honest, never- worked. But he had to try – it was a life or death situation. Merlin realised he was able to ramble in thoughts even whilst fighting for air, and decided he would continue this mental self-conversation later - hopefully.

The warlock closed his eyes and concentrated. Going into shock would be signing his death sentence. His power was flowing frantically through his broken body. He calmly directed it towards his chest, and mentally pronounced a healing spell. He knew without opening his eyes that his body was shining as the bones repaired themselves at an unnatural speed.

He moaned as the ribs snapped back together with a loud 'pop!', but then nearly giggled in relief and shock. A last mental spell and the gag was ripped off his mouth.

He breathed in normally, sat up without any pain in the chest and after wavering a little, bore his blue eyes in Arthur's surprised ones. He grinned.

* * *

'Merlin! What happened?' He was frantic. 'You were struggling to breathe, and then you just went still and your body decided to shine. I thought you had died! And now you are just grinning as if nothing had happened! Idiot!'

Arthur nearly pouted, but decided against it. A King does NOT pout.

'How did you heal yourself!'

Merlin bit his lip.

'Erm…I can still use my ma-' He stopped dead. He was still unsure about Arthur's opinion on the M word.

Arthur took on the hint and smiled.

'I realised I didn't care if you had magic or not. You are still the same bumbling idiot. Knowing you have magic or not won't change my friendship with you.'

Merlin's grin got ridiculously wide.

'Did you actually admit -?'

'Yes. Shut up, Merrrlin. Now what were you saying about being able to use your powers?'

The younger boy closed his eyes and probed his powers.

'It seems that I can use my magic on myself, as in I can heal myself. But I can't make it leave my body yet, the shackles block any interaction with the environment.'

'Meaning…'

'I can't unchain us or open the door or blow it off or attack Morgana or –'

Merlin was on a very long list of what he couldn't do.

It seemed having back some control over his powers made him euphoric and talkative – even more than usual. Knowing him, he could have rambled on all day. Arthur raised his shacked hands in defeat.

'Alright, alright, I get it.'

'Fantastic!'

'So we have to get the shackles off you...'

'...Correct!'

'I am thinking, Merrrlin!'

'Don't think too much, you don't want to hurt yourself!'

He piped in.

'Idiot!'

* * *

That had been three days ago.

Three days since Moriarty's treachery. Three days that Arthur and Merlin had spent locked up in a cell. Three days not getting food and drinking the water that dripped from the cold wet walls. Three days since Morgana had last showed up. She obviously wanted to starve Arthur and force him to sign the handover of the kingdom. And obviously, she did not recall Arthur's stubborness.

Merlin relentlessly tried to get the shackles off. Each time he tried to concentrate his magic on them, they grew unbearably hot and burnt his wrists. Even if Merlin could heal them instantly - he had actually become quite good at healing magic over the last few days-, the burns left painful cicatrices. And each time he tried to get them off, he passed out to wake up hours later, feeling totally drained.

Despite of everything, Merlin was not affected by the lack of food or water – his strong bumbling magic sustained him.

But Arthur was growing weaker and weaker, and Merlin was scared of what might happen to him if he didn't find a way out soon.

He screwed his eyes shut and tried again. The manacles became red-hot, as if they were put over a fire. Merlin blocked out the seering pain, and dug even more in his magic. He was nearly there…but his magic retailed again and shot back into him. He flew against the wall, banging his head on it, and passed out.

* * *

The cell's door flew open for the first time in days.

Moriarty and Morgana stepped in, under Arthur's weak but watchful eyes. He had silently observed Merlin as he tried again to free them, hurting himself in the process. He had tried to tell him to stop, but his friend was a self-sacrificing idiot, and he wouldn't listen.

The witch smirked at seeing the unconscious body of his friend, but turned her attention back onto him. Her green eyes locked up with his.

'Ready to sign the handover?'

Arthur shook his head, his eyes set on the wall behind Merlin. He would not to betray his fatigue. The lack of water had made his throat so dry it was impossible for him to make a sound.

Morgana laughed - she did not even really care about the treaty; it seemed torturing her brother was a lot more enjoyable for her. He maintained his gaze on the grey wall.

'Pity. Anyway, Moriarty and I have a surprise for the two of you. You are moving out. I hope you'll enjoy your new accommodations.'

She raised her hands.

_'__Bedyrne us thanonweard to Essetir!'_

Arthur felt himself fall. The world went black.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

**Hi everyone!**

**Hope you enjoy this new chapter!**

**Don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 9**

Sherlock had ridden almost non-stop, passing through blurry villages and jumping over small forest streams. He was even in advance by a day when he reached Camelot's gates...

The Prince always arrived a bit earlier that planned in foreign city. He had elaborated a whole strategy: getting to know the city and the hosts' intentions, and NOT barging in like an idiot in the throne room, right into a possible trap.

So far, it had always worked.

He pulled his hood up to hide his recognizable features – though he doubted much people would recognize his high cheekbones and crystalline eyes – and rode past the bridge that crossed the castle's moats. He dismounted the white mare the bandit had kindly landed to him the day before entering the city. The guards at the gates did not even spare a glance at him, their normal brain only assessing him as one of the many merchants that made their way into the city. Idiots.

The Prince got into the lower town, pulling the horse behind him. The market was swarming with people. At first sight, everything seemed normal – the merchants peddling their wares, buyers negotiating with big gestures, children playing around the fountains – but there was definitely something off.

Sherlock could feel a subtle scent of magic in the air, swirling around the city and influencing the people somehow. He felt his anti-magic powers raising to protect him against that strange spell. He closed his eyes, and let down his first level of barriers. He took a step back – the magic had nearly blasted him off his feet. Whatever that spell was, it certainly was _not_ friendly.

Eyebrows furrowed, he looked around. The people of Camelot were casually chatting, exchanging goods and gossips. But there was something…

He took one calm breath. There was only one way of knowing the purpose of the spell. Letting it through his protections. It was quite risky, but it was the only thing he could think of.

He let down his shields.

The magic blasted him off his feet and flew him into a hard stone wall. He collapsed.

Sherlock writhed on the ground, eyes wide, frantically gripping his throat. Tendrils of magic were shocking him, trying to invade his mind and manipulate it. He was blacking out - he realised that if he lost consciousness now, he might never wake up.

He closed his eyes and concentrated to pull the protection up again.

He succeeded at the last second and was left panting on the ground for several minutes.

When he got his sight back – the lack of air had temporarily blinded him-, he saw that no one had noticed his odd invisible fight. He let out his breath and propped himself up.

The spell had instantly tried to take over his mind, to modify his knowledge of the situation of Camelot's monarchy and control his very being.

He shivered.

From what he had felt, he knew that the people of Camelot believed King Arthur was a traitor and that Morgana Pendragon had saved them all from a civil war.

Arthur Pendragon was being held prisoner in his own cells.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

He visualized the confidential castle's map Mycroft had shown him years before, that included all the entries and ways to the dungeon of Camelot. He went through his memories and quickly found what he wanted in his mental archive.

There was only one passage that could be unguarded at this hour of the day. It was a tunnel starting in the forest and leading directly to the last cell on the left of the second dungeon corridor. He interiorly grinned and headed for the forest. He passed by the unobservant guards at the gate. They did not even wonder why the weird hooded merchant left Camelot so soon, without having bought anything.

He tied his horse to a tree by the entrance of the tunnel. It was closed by six thick metal bars that looked deeply embedded into the stone. He sighed.

He pulled the first bar with his full strength, expecting it to be firmly rooted in the wall, and landed flat on his back. The six bars were in his hands, dislodged from the wall as though it was made of butter – someone had already taken that entrance and camouflaged his passage.

_Well, that went surprisingly well. Now I just have to get a King out of his own cells, break a powerful enchantment and win over an evil sorceress. Next time there is a diplomatic visit to do I'll force Mycroft to go._

He sneaked into the dungeons.

The cells were empty except for a slumbering guard.

He silently walked through them, looking in every cell for the king of Camelot. There was no one.

He was going back to take another look. His feet got caught into some material. He stumbled. There was a blue piece of cloth, dotted with dry blood, on the ground. He swiftly grabbed it. His breath got caught in his throat. It was a neckerchief, just like the ones Merlin loved to wear as a child.

Sherlock wavered and caught himself on a wall. He closed his eyes, took a long shivering breath, and blocked out his rampaging emotions.

He folded the cloth in his cloak's pocket and calmly let his focus switch again to the cells.

There was someone breathing on his neck.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi everyone!**

**Here is a new chapter! I hope you like it, and don't forget to review! I need beta-ing!**

**The great Holmes reunion - shamelessly quoting Indiamoore's review - is approaching! Dun Dun DUUUUUUN!**

**I know you are all looking forward to it, and I am sorry for the wait! I certainly hadn't thought the first part of this story would be so long...**

**The whole fic was supposed to be 10k words long, with the Holmes meeting at the half (more or less lol), and here I am at 15k+ and not even done with the first part...**

**Not that I mind at all, I am having a lot of fun writing this!**

**I want to say a huuuuge thank you to all my reviewers! You can't imagine how much your wonderful praises mean to me! Thank you so much!**

**Guest: I'll try to involve John in this, but I hadn't put him in my plan, so I don't promise anything... I'll try :)**

**And IndiaMoore, I am a huge fan of your fics, please write many more! I have a fangirl fit (aka giggling in front of my screen) each time I read your reviews!**

**I dedicate this chapter to all those who favorited, alerted or reviewed this fic! You are all awesome!**

* * *

_There was someone breathing on his neck._

**Chapter 10**

He slowly turned towards the guard that had silently moved from the door to him while he stupidly got a panic attack because of a piece of blue cloth.

It was a brown haired man, whose eyes were glazed over by the spell. His chillingly empty gaze bore into Sherlock's blue eyes.

The knight did not even blink once.

Sherlock inconspicuously took a step back, but the guard noticed – just his luck, this guard had an average IQ. He grabbed his arm and twisted it against his back.

Sherlock tried to free himself without hurting the possessed man, but he would not let go - _everytime_ he tries to be comprehensive-, so he kicked him in the knees. The man let out a "oomph" as he let go of Sherlock. The prince turned around and tripped the man, who hit his head on the stone ground and was out cold instantly.

Sherlock pulled back his sleeves, grabbed the neckerchief that had fallen out of his cloak during the little commotion and put it again in his pocket.

_Then_ he heard it.

There were people coming down the stairs.

He started to run back to the tunnel, not bothering anymore about being silent, but caught the glimpse of somehing on his right. He went back on his steps to look through in the cell. No one was to be seen.

He caught his breath.

But there was someone behind him – again.

He whipped around.

Morgana – guessing the mad-looking woman was the famous witch wasn't hard, you should have seen her smirk – was standing there, arms crossed. There was someone else leaning against the wall in the shadows, but Sherlock could not see his face.

He took out his sword and lunged forward, but before he could so much as step towards them both his arms were grabbed by behind him. He sighed

'Well, well, well, who have we got here?'

Before he could let out a witty remark of his, the man of the shadows stepped in the pale daylight. Sherlock's legs gave way under him and he would have collapsed if not for the iron grip of the men holding his arms. He was _almost_ thankful.

'Isn't this Sherlock? Oh, dear, Mycroft sent his little wayward brother to Camelot without suspecting what awaited him there…Poor little Sherly.'

Moriarty.

For a moment, Sherlock was seven years old again, clutching his older brother's hand as his father choked on air. As he slowly agonized on the stone floor. As his face gradually took a horrible tint of grey, and his regal blue eyes lost their usual spark.

Sherlock shook himself out of his memories and let out a shudder. He did not look up, not daring to cross his cousin's stare. The mocking eyes would only bring back other painful memories, and make him lose his fragile hold on reality.

'I am not going to capture you, Sherlock. No, no, I have prepared a nice surprise for you, and I want you to get it _yourself_.'

Sherlock did not trust his voice to speak back. He was already concentrating on blocking his mind from going through another memory – he knew this time it would be about Merlin.

'Tick Tock, goes the clock, I have the two people you seek. Tick Tock, goes the clock, they'll die if you don't find them.'

Without further taunts, Morgana and Moriarty transported away.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

He inspired deeply and blocked out all remnants of the emotional shocks he had been subjected to in less than an hour. He would have to settle down somewhere and try to do something about his memories. But not now, he had a King – and apparently someone else? - to save.

He gathered his thoughts.

Arthur was held in Essetir. That much was blatantly obvious.

But who was the second person he supposedly sought? He would have to figure it out on his way to Essetir.

His attention shifted to reality.

The possessed men that had held him throughout his mad relative's speech were still twisting his arms behind his back. And they did not seem to be considering to move. He sighed.

Sherlock's right arm was held by the brown-haired knight that had first seen him – he had woken up remarkably quickly -, and his left arm by an old man in long red robes – the Court Physician.

Both men had an unnaturally strong grasp - Morgana's doing.

He kicked the young man to get away, with perhaps more strength than needed. Not that he particularly cared. Rough day.

The Knight mechanically let go off him after a few more blows and left without a word.

One done. Next.

Sherlock looked at the older man, whose hands were still firmly clamped on his arm. The elder was looking at him oddly, mouth agape, a dawn of recognition on his face. Sherlock frowned, and tried to remove the weird man's hands from his arm.

He touched the physician's hand.

The old man had magic – magic in Camelot, ah! Who would have thought?-, and his powers were seemingly reacting with Sherlock's abilities. He was breaking though the possession.

After a few more seconds, the Physician blinked away the eerie glaze in his eyes and stared at Sherlock in astonishment. He did not let go of his arm though, much to the prince's displeasure.

'Have I met you before?'

At that point it became obvious to Sherlock that that man would only make him lose precious seconds with his pointless questions.

'No. Now, if you would just let go of my arm and return to your patients?'

The man's eyebrows shot up at Sherlock's rudeness.

'You look familiar though. Must be the age. How did you escape Morgana's spell? How did you break it on me?'

Sherlock grumped.

'I could free you because you have magic. How I did it is none of your business.' He adopted a more regal stance and continued. 'Go heal people, and let me go.'

The man did not seem to believe Sherlock, but knew it was useless to press on the matter. He was about to let go of his arm – finally – but at the last moment bore his eyes in Sherlock's.

'When you free the King, don't leave his manservant behind, even if Arthur might want to go without him. Do not let the manservant behind. Please.'

Sherlock tried not to shudder - gods, that one knew how to be creepy -. Trying not to show his edginess, he shrugged.

'Alright. Whatever. Just leave and go do whatever you usually do. I will get the King _and _his manservant in Essetir – yes, Moriarty is holding them captive in his castle. I'll be back in less than five days with the both of them.'

The Court Physician looked _a little _relieved – Sherlock tried not to look offended at the lack of trust, but it was understandable. The man obviously cared from the manservant.

The elder finally released Sherlock from his magically enhanced iron grasp.

The Prince strode off without looking back - shudder -, wondering why the King's manservant had been captured instead of being possessed like everyone else. Odd.

He was still massaging his arms as he reached his horse. Without losing more time, he set off to Essetir. He would hopefully get there in one day. In the meantime, he had to think of a plan to avoid the trap Moriarty had set for him. And to find out who the second person he sought was – it could not be the manservant, could it?.

* * *

**There you go! I hope you liked this chapter, and don't forget to tell me about your impressions!**

**Another Doctor Who reference for Soufflé Girl In a Blue Box!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi everyone!**

***waving to the crowd of angry readers***

**It's been...3 weeks...!**

***ducking to avoid rotten tomatoes***

**I'm really sorry about that! I had this chapter all written and ready to be posted on a memory stick, but I accidentally erased everything that was on it (I did it on a friend's computer and I noticed I had lost everything at home, and it was too late.). So I had to re-plan this story using what I remembered from the original plot, and re-write this chapter.**

***sympathetic smiles from the crowd***

**I think procrastination is also guilty for the lateness of this update.**

***boos from the crowd. More rotten tomatoes to dodge***

**Anyway, I am really sorry and I'll try to update sooner from now on (hopefully!) xD**

***cheers***

**This chapter was not in the original plot. I added it after it was suggested by Guest = Thank you so much for your support and ideas, and I hope this will live to your expectations! :) :) :)**

**Jayfire: Thanks! I hope you'll like this new chapter!**

**Guest: I love your review! I just do!**

**Rocker Lullaby: First, I think your penname is really poetic! :) As to your review...I am trying to get to the meeting as quickly as possible. It will hopefully be in the next chapter (I am really looking forward to writing it, but I have to set everything before making it happen). I am sorry I am taking so long! xD**

**TobiasBoon: I honestly hadn't thought about that! *laughes* It is such a great idea! I am brainstorming every idea I can come up with as to what Mycroft's special ability could be. If you have a suggestion, feel free to make it :)**

**Juliette: Thank you so much for the review! I am really happy you love their relationship! Please keep reviewing!**

**A huge thank you to all that alerted or favorited this story!**

**So, here is another Sherlock-centered chapter :)**

**Allons-y!**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Sherlock rode into the village at dawn. He had left Camelot the evening before and had only stopped once at a little stream to water the horses. So far, he had not crossed bandits' paths, and he was grateful for the time saved.

It was the first village he encountered in Essetir. He was only two miles away from Camelot's borders and as much as he told himself he was being silly, he was still on edge. There was no way Moriarty was chasing him. He knew perfectly well that Sherlock would have to walk into his trap in Essetir. But Sherlock's childhood memories were resurfacing, and he couldn't help but be afraid. There. The emotionless Prince was scared.

He dismounted his horse and tied it to a tree by the only village's tavern. He would have a little nap before resuming his race towards Essetir. The last time he had had a proper sleep seemed like ages ago. He yawned as he pushed the tavern's door open.

The room was dimly lit, the only window obscured by wooden shutters. It was desert apart from the tavern holder and a fair headed man sitting at the back of the room. Ex-knight, limp to his right leg. He would cause no problem should he engage a fight. The man was quietly eating his breakfast. Talking of which…his stomach rumbled.

He sat down near the door after ordering a full meal to the overjoyed tavern holder. Obviously clients were rare in that small village.

The man was even humming to himself as he prepared Sherlock's food. Yep, clients were definitely scarce. Which was good; no one would come in and disturb his quick rest.

He swallowed down the enormous place the tavern holder put in front of him, leant back against the wall and closed his eyes. After a few peaceful seconds, the tavern holder tapped him on the shoulder to tell him he was going to get supplies and trusted him for guarding the place for a quarter of hour. Sherlock just nodded and closed his eyes again with an annoyed scowl.

Just as sleep was beginning to take over his tired body, the door burst open.

His warriors instinct kicked in and he shot up from his seat.

A small girl, with dishevelled red hair and a shabby brown dress, five years old max, ran into the tavern and ducked behind the bar, banging into chairs as big as her on her way. She let out a scared whimper from her shelter.

A burly man in his late thirties entered next, an old blunt sword in his right hand. He stepped inside the tavern and banged the door close behind him.

He obviously hadn't noticed the fair-headed man at the back, nor Sherlock, who was standing in the shadows behind him.

His strong voice boomed across the almost empty tavern.

'Where ar'ya, witch? Sneaky littl' druidess…Come out, and ya' death'll be quick!'

Sherlock's blood ran cold. This situation was too much alike the one fifteen years before during which he had lost his little brother. He looked around to find a suitable weapon. His eyes zoomed on a candlestick of sorts decorating the table at his right. He would have to be quick to conserve the effect of surprise.

Before he could lean and grab the candlestick the other client took out his sword and lunged towards the burly man with an angry shout. The latter brandished his own sword and blocked the first blow.

The other man kept shouting and bringing blow after blow over the burly man that was three heads taller than him.

'You'

Clang.

'Have no right.'

Clang.

'To attack a young child'.

Clang-clang.

Sherlock lunged towards the chandelier and joined the other client's side, who shot him a short surprised glance. The Prince grinned at him as he felt his adrenalin rushing through his veins.

The burly man yelled in anger 'how dare you!?' and with a strong hit sent the smaller fair-headed man's sword flying. He scrambled after it, momentarily leaving Sherlock to guard his back.

The Prince tried to parry another strong blow with the weird candlestick thing, but it broke under the impact and Sherlock had just enough time to jump backwards and dodge the slash. This sudden movement made him lose his momentum, and he stumbled back. The man sent the Prince flying against a chair with a kick and put his sword to Sherlock's throat with a furious growl.

_Stupid stupid stupid! I should have known better!_

He knew the man would not hesitate. He was out for blood.

The Prince frantically looked around him for some solution, but there was nothing close enough to him. He was going to die here, on a stupid diplomatic mission. On the ground and unarmed. Seriously, if there had been a next time he would have forced Mycroft to move his lazy backside and go to Camelot himself. He closed his eyes and waited for the sword pressing against his throat to slash it open.

He heard a faint sound of footsteps behind his executioner and slowly crept one eye open. The man holding him at sword point crunched his eyebrows and started to turn his head to look behind him, but he was knocked out before he knew what was going on.

The fair-headed man rubbed his fist with a smirk and helped Sherlock up.

'What should we do with him?'

Sherlock's answer was immediate.

'Tie him and leave it to the villagers to decide.'

His mouth then twitched into a weird scowl. He did not like admitting he had needed help.

'Thanks for, you know.' He looked down. 'Saving me.'

The other man smiled.

'No problem.' He gestured in the bar's direction. 'What about bringing the girl to a healer? She seemed very frightened and to be in a pretty poor shape.'

A few minutes later, the other man and Sherlock had brought little Lily to the town's healer. The man had wanted to ask someone the location of the healer's house, but no villager was up at this unearthly hour of the morning. He had been about to go back to the tavern and wait for the holder to show up again when Sherlock had yawned and tiredly raised his arm to point a house near the village's entrance. The man had cast him a questioning look and been really surprised to see Sherlock had been right when a kind-looking healer had answered the door. The woman had fluffed over the 'poor red-haired thing' and closed the door, leaving the two men to stand awkwardly in front of the house, waiting for news.

The fair-headed man, whom the woman had called 'John', fidgeted on his feet for the third time in a minute. After a few more seconds, he looked at Sherlock, and finally started the conversation.

'Why did you help me?'

'Why did you want to stop the man from hurting a druid in the first place?' Sherlock shot back. He did not let the man answer though. 'We are near Camelot, and most people here are opposed if not downright hostile towards magic.'

Sherlock smirked.

'But you obviously are not from here. You were a head knight in Essetir until one year ago, when you decided to leave the country. You have never returned there because you would be in danger. You suffer from a limp in the right leg, which disappears when a fight's adrenalin kicks in. You also have a little brother called Harry that hasmagic and lives with a group of druids.'

John's eyes were round as saucers but he managed to choke out a: 'Stop reading my thoughts!'

The younger man grinned before answering.

'Am not. I simply observe. The way you reacted back in the tavern shows you have a close relative that has magic. You also acted very protectively, which means this relative is younger than you. You were reading a letter from a certain Harry that, from the type of paper linen and ink he used, lives with the druids. Younger brother with magic. The fact you were a knight but stopped is obvious because of your general stance.'

John shot him a mock-offended look.

'Oh, come on. You hold yourself square and straight even while eating breakfast. It is so obvious. You carry a fine-crafted sword, so you could be a rich merchant, but you keep it close to you in a way only soldiers do. You are not on duty though, and have not been for quite a long time, because you have not sharpened your sword for a long time. There was no need for it off duty. As for your limp, you were leaning slightly on your left leg while sitting, which means the right one bothers you. It was injured during battle and left an underlying ache, which disappears when you are in the middle of a fight. Some would think you want a normal safe life, away from the war, but it isn't true. You have been yearning for action ever since you left duty.'

Sherlock rubbed his hands, waiting for a verdict with a weirdly amused smile.

'Wow.' He grinned. 'And that was the _hugest_ understatement of my life.'

'The name is Sherlock Holmes.'

**:) :) :)**

**I just couldn't resist using that quote!**

**Don't forget to review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Bonjour tout le monde !**

**I've been ****_relatively_**** quick to update this time *cheering crowd*, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to tell me about it by reviewing!**

**Oh, and try not to kill me...the Sherlock/Merlin meeting is not in this chapter either. It will be in the next...hopefully :) *readers sharpening their knives and shooting me evil looks***

**Thanks to Guest and Rocker Lullaby for the really nice reviews about the last chapter!**

**In this chapter I used TobiasBoon's idea about the special abilities...further A/N about at the end of the chap!**

**Here is some psycological angst for Sherlock. I hope you like that :) *cheers***

**Bonne lecture ! (that's French :D)**

* * *

_'__The name is Sherlock Holmes.'_

* * *

**Chapter 12**

'John Watson'. He stuck out his hand with a smile. 'You are the Prince of Semloh, aren't you?'

'Yep.' Sherlock stopped, considering his answer. 'I am on a diplomatic mission. Mycroft sent me to Camelot sign a peace treaty between Essetir, Camelot and Semloh. I should have known Moriarty would do something sneaky.'

John shot him a questioning look.

'When I got to Camelot, the city had fallen to the hands of Moriarty and Morgana. Everyone in the kingdom is possessed, even Queen Guenivere. Arthur is held prisoner in Essetir, and Moriarty expects me to walk right into his trap.'

John was about to ask something when the healer's door shot open. The kind-looking woman had obviously been listening to their conversation, but Sherlock did not mind.

'Do you know what happened to the King's manservant?' The healer's blue eyes bore into his own, seeking the truth. He decided not to lie to her and shook his head sadly.

'I saw the Court physician, who had, _erm_, somehow managed not to get possessed, and he told me that the manservant had been captured along with the King.'

The woman nearly burst into tears, leaning heavily against the house's door. John went to her side and put his hand on her shoulder.

'Don't worry, Hunith.' He squeezed her hand. 'I am going with Prince Sherlock. I promise you, I'll bring Merlin back.'

Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath and a step back. When full realisation came over him, his legs betrayed him and he crumbled on the muddy ground.

_'__Merlin. I'll bring Merlin back.'_

The four words echoed through his mind, bringing back unwanted memories. Blue eyes just like his own. A cheeky smile and a crystalline laugh. He clenched his teeth and bit back a desperate sob. He could distantly feel his hands convulsively gripping the rough soil beneath him as he tried to shake himself out of his memories-induced trance.

_Merlin. Could it be…? No._

His reason took over once more, and he shook his head. There was no way his little brother was still alive, not after all that time looking for him.

He blinked and looked up to see John watching him with concern.

'Are you alright, my lord?'

Sherlock gathered his sprawled limbs and pushed himself up with a slight shiver, not daring to meet John in the eye.

'Yes, I-I am okay.'

The next thing he knew, he was half-sitting-half-lying on a hard mattress, the healer observing him with an eerie expression as she held out a bowl of broth to him.

'You should stay here for an hour or two before leaving. You look like you haven't slept in ages, my lord.'

He frowned before taking the bowl.

'Why are you looking at me like that?'

She looked at the ground, holding her hands.

'Oh, it-it's nothing. You remind me of my son.'

Sherlock nearly poured broth over himself at her words.

'R-really?'

Before she could answer, John ran into the room, sword in his hand.

'Camelot knights are coming this way. And they do not look friendly in the slightest. Moriarty must be getting impatient. We have to go.'

At Sherlock's lack of response, he shouted.

'Now, my lord!'

His shout finally pulled Sherlock out of his thoughts. The younger man stood up and nodded to Hunith before running to his horse.

They were already far when the knights crossed Ealdor, rampaging though the houses to find the Prince of Semloh.

* * *

They rode in silence for three hours. John did not mind the absence of conversation, and for that Sherlock was grateful.

The wall he had mentally built around his memories was crumbling; at an alarming speed. The events of the previous days had been harsh blows to his relative stability of mind, and the years spent repressing any feelings were taking a huge toll on him. He hoped he would be able to cope with the trap Moriarty had prepared.

He grit his teeth and forbid himself to even think about the possibility of Merlin being still alive. Another disillusion would crush him definitely.

He tried to change his mind.

'How did you meet Hunith?'

John jumped a little at hearing the deep voice, startled by the sound after three silent hours.

'Oh. Two weeks ago, I stopped in Ealdor. After leaving Essetir, I spent most of my time on the road, and I wanted a little change. Hunith took me in, and in exchange, I worked in her fields. She is not married and her only son is King Arthur's manservant, so there was no one to help her harvesting her crops.'

A pause. 'She is really an incredibly kind woman, and she treated me like her son during my stay. I couldn't let her down about Merl-her son.'

Another silence.

John envisaged asking Sherlock if he had reacted to the name 'Merlin' this badly because of his little brother, but thought against it. Better not recall unwanted memories.

'What do you plan to do to save King Arthur, my lord?'

'Don't call me 'my lord'. It sounds awkward.'

Sherlock looked down and fumbled with his horse's reins. He seemed to be considering whether he trusted John on telling him the plan or not. John was starting to think Sherlock would not give an answer when his baritone voice spoke again.

'I don't really have a plan. Moriarty will have already covered every possible option of saving them, so no hope on that side. But...each of the Holmes brothers have a special ability. Merlin's was obviously magic, Mycroft's…is _his_ to say, and mine is that any kind of magic cannot affect me unless I want it to. And I am almost certain Moriarty ignores that.'

He whispered to himself a bit too loud: 'I hope so.'

John chose to ignore this, and tried to reassure the younger man riding at his side.

'I know every corridor of the castle, every stairs, every guards' schedule of shifts. You can trust me on that.'

Sherlock absently nodded. He had obviously already thought about that.

'I learnt the maps of Essetir, including the secret passageways, in Semloh's archives, but any further help will be useful.'

The Prince looked ahead.

'We can stop to rest for the evening. We will be there at dawn.'

The two men dismounted at the same time and watered their horses.

John smiled.

'By the way, there is something I ought to tell you. You know, earlier, when you deduced all those things about me? You got something wrong.'

Sherlock looked smug he had gotten most of his deductions correct. John bit back a laugh.

'Spot on, then.' He shrugged. 'I didn't expect to be right about everything.'

John rubbed his hands with a smirk.

'Harry's short for Harriet.'

'Harry is your sister.' He face-palmed. '_Sister!'_

* * *

**:D**

**I am sure you noticed '**Merlin's was obviously magic, Mycroft's…it is _his_ to say'...**I still do not know what Mycroft's ability could be. Help me on that! (no, this is ****_not_**** bribery to get even more reviews) :D**

**Until next time! :)**

**Airin9**


	13. Christmas!

Hi everyone! *cheers from enthusiastic crowd*

This is NOT a new chapter, sorry! *runs away from a mob of angry readers holding knives, and, what's that? A trident...?*

I just wanted to thank all of you, the extraordinary people who reviewed, followed, favorited, or just read this story. You are the best!

I wish you all a merry christmas! Joyeux Noel!

*puts on a Santa Claus hat and happily hums 'Jingle bells'*

(it's not yet the 25th here in France but it is in some parts of the world such as in Australia and I don't want to be late for any of you!)

I hope you all spend a wonderful Christmas Eve/day and that North (from Rotg xD) brings you everything you ever dreamt of!

Stay tuned for next chapter which I will hopefully be able to post before...2015! Sherlock will soon be reunited with his little brother!

And thanks to all of you who gave me ideas about what Mycroft's powers could be! You are all fantastic!

Joyeux Noel!

*waves at readers and runs away before the readers try to kill her for not actually posting a chapter*


	14. Chapter 13

**Hi everyone!**

**(see, I kept my promise. I updated in 2014!)**

**I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! Here is my (late) present for you! Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to tell me about it!**

**Last update I didn't really anwer to each review personally so I am doing it now:**

**TobiasBoon: The ability you proposed is so Mycroft-like! ****I am really lucky that you read this story, I don't know what I would do without you giving me such awesome ideas! Thank you!**

**Superwholockingers: Hallo xD I think your idea is really good, and I will certainly use it! Keep reviewing! ****Danke shön!**

**ThreeGoodReasons: Thank you for such a nice review! (now I know I can bribe you shamelessly!) I will include the ability you suggested as well!**

**Guest: The power you proposed will play a key role in the next chapters! Thanks for reviewing again!**

**Sparky199: I will try and use both the abilities you gave me! (mostly the one about capturing magic off people, but I'll try and include the lying one) Thanks for reviewing twice!**

**On with the fic!**

* * *

"Arthur?"

The King emerged from unconsciousness as he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. He lazily chose to ignore it.

"Arthur!"

He mentally crunched his eyebrows. Why was he feeling so tired?

"Come on, Arthur! I need you to wake up!"

A short silence. Arthur briefly wondered if the annoying voice had at last decided to let him rest. Just as he was feeling consciousness slipping away from him, the voice called out for him again.

"Please, Arthur!"

He heard a small shudder as he faintly felt a hand resting on his head.

"Ic ácwice þe! Awace!"

The King felt the lingering darkness recede with those eerie-sounding words, but the tiredness remained. He felt so pathetically weak.

After a few seconds of gathering the little energy he had, he managed to open his eyes. He was met by a dim light. But there were no windows in the damp cell he found himself in. How in Albion…? He painfully turned his head, sore from all the days seemingly spent in the same position, and his eyes met his manservant's. They seemed to be glowing gold. Riiiight, that was the source of light… Arthur closed his eyes again and relaxed, before frowning. Wait. Gold?! Merlin, a sorcer-…? His memories came crashing down at him and he moaned.

"Arthur! Are you awake?"

He felt himself being turned around and moaned again to signal his awareness.

"Arthur, I need you to listen carefully."

The King weakly nodded, but did not open his eyes.

"I have managed to break the magic-suppressing bounds, but it has left me with really little magic. Thankfully, Morgana and Moriarty will not be back before tomorrow morning." Merlin's whispers became urgent as he saw Arthur was already beginning to lose consciousness again. "Arthur! We are going to get out of here, but to do so, I need you to Stay. Awake. I don't have enough energy to magically lift you and carry your lazy backside around." Merlin seemed to consider something. "But I think I can try to give you the little magic I have left. It will hopefully give you some energy."

After a few seconds, Arthur faintly nodded.

"Alright."

Merlin shifted and placed both his hands on the King's head.

"Arthur, you have to look at my eyes."

The King blearily blinked his eyes open and stared at Merlin's deep gold pupils.

"Good. Don't blink."

After a few seconds, Merlin whispered indistinctively and sagged.

The glow seemed to fade out of Merlin's eyes whilst Arthur felt his own pupils heat up more and more. He could feel an extraordinary rush of energy flow around his body as his cheeks regained colour and his eyes were at last able to focus. When the last speck of gold left Merlin's blue eyes, the warlock sank to the ground and was left panting there, by Arthur's side.

Arthur blinked to make the gold leave his eyes, pushed himself forward and was by the second at Merlin's side, just like his friend had been a few seconds ago.

"Merlin!" The warlock did not seem to hear him. In fact, he seemed on the verge of passing out. Arthur gripped his arm, trying to jostle his manservant up. "Merlin! Will you be alright?"

The young warlock sat up and shakily rubbed his eyes.

"Y-yes. I'll fare."

He hesitantly pushed himself up, supported by Arthur, and looked at him through heavy eyelids.

"N-no time to waste. Let's get out."

They hobbled out of the cell, Merlin leaning against the wall, shaking and breathing heavily every few steps.

When Arthur hesitantly asked him why he was so weak, Merlin tiredly shrugged and closed his eyes, as if to reduce his nausea.

"I think my body did not appreciate being drained of all my magic. Seriously, I don't know how you live without it."

Arthur looked even guiltier for causing Merlin's predicament – he had suspected that it was his fault, but hearing it made it real.

"Don't worry, Arthur. As soon as my magic finishes replenishing itself, I'll be fine, really." The warlock took a long painful breath. "We have to keep going."

Arthur nodded before putting his arm under Merlin's shoulder to hold him up. The warlock's legs were trembling under him, and would have given way if not for the King's strong support. Arthur bit his lip and pulled his friend beside him for a few more empty corridors before reaching a dead end. The King swore under his breath as he leaned Merlin down. The exhausted warlock sat up against the wall, panting, eyes closed. All of a sudden, he silenced himself. Arthur opened his mouth to ask him what was wrong before seeing Merlin gesturing him to keep quiet.

"There are people coming this way." The warlock whispered. "We have to hide."

He pushed himself up, swaying, and pointed to a wooden door, before weakly slumping into Arthur's hold.

The King pushed the door open and pulled the still form of his friend into the room before locking the door behind him. He exhaled. They had reached the throne room of Essetia, which was thankfully desert at this late hour of the night.

"Merlin!"

The raven-haired warlock looked up at him weakly.

"I think we are safe for now."

A loud cackle came from behind Arthur.

"Oh, I don't believe so!"

* * *

John was swiftly following the Prince of Semloh inside Essetia's castle, ducking every so often when Sherlock gestured him to.

"Are you sure this is the good direction? The cells are at the other side of the castle."

Sherlock ignored him again and sprang forward, hand at his sword's hilt and ready to take it out.

When they had gotten to Essetia, John had taken Sherlock to his old home, which was now unoccupied, and had gotten him a sword from his secret cave – that Sherlock had _obviously_ been aware of before even reaching the house.

Then, they had somehow managed to make it past the numerous guards of Essetia – that were, according to Sherlock, 'worse than Camelot's' – and to sneak into the castle. So far, they had not seen a soul. Which was not a good omen, as John kept telling Sherlock. The Prince would just shrug it off and keep walking, taking such large strides John had to jog to keep up.

This was the most frustrating rescue party he had ever undertaken. Ever.

Sherlock suddenly turned right, disappearing from John's sight. The ex-knight sighed and followed him before being grabbed by the Prince and pushed in an alcove.

"King Arthur and his manservant have locked themselves up in the throne room when they heard us coming, obviously thinking we were Moriarty and Morgana. But they are not alone in there."

John looked at him quizzically.

"What do we do?"

"Isn't it obvious? We barge in. Now come on."

Sherlock pulled him out of the alcove, leapt to the door and fidgeted the lock for about three seconds before a small 'pop' signalled the door was open. John tried not to look too impress for Sherlock' big-headedness's sake. He swiftly took out his sword just as Sherlock silently pushed the door open.

* * *

_"__Oh, I don't believe so!"_

Morgana was standing by Moriarty, Sherlock's renegade cousin, and gloating at King Arthur. Sherlock could not see the King and his manservant as they were behind one of the thick stone pillars supporting the high gothic roof.

_"__What do you think you were doing?"_

Sherlock looked behind him and gestured John to keep close before tiptoeing to the closest pillar to hide from Moriarty and his acolyte's sight. The ex- Essetir knight ducked beside him, his eyebrows crunched in a concentrated expression.

_"__Sneaking out of your cell like that was extremely rude"_

Sherlock held out his hands and gestured John his plan. He mimicked walking with two of his fingers, then pointed John and himself, then the direction of the two men they had come to save.

_"__Moriarty and I did not appreciate your lack of gratitude for our good cares"_

John nodded. Sherlock carefully stood up and risked a look at the witch and Moriarty. Seeing they were not looking in his direction, he rolled to the next pillar.

_"__But, look there…what is it…?"_

They had just reached the last pillar before King Arthur's when Morgana took notice of them and yelled.

'_Astrice_!"

The pillar burst into pieces. John caught the brunt of explosion and was blasted into the wall. He did not stand up; but a quick look assured Sherlock that the ex-knight was only knocked out.

Sherlock pushed himself up, rubbed the dust generated by the collapse of the pillar off his dark cape, and stepped out of the shadows in front of a wide-eyed Arthur Pendragon. The King was standing protectively in front of a fallen boy who was breathing heavily and struggling to stay conscious. Sherlock could not see his face though – perhaps it was better; it would preserve him from a disillusion when Hunith's Merlin turned out not to be his little brother.

"I am here, as you wanted. You will let them go." Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice devoid of emotion.

Moriarty smirked.

"Do you really believe it would be that easy? No, nooooo…. This is only the beginning"

He looked at Morgana, who let out a sick giggle.

"Knock him out."

The witch's eyes burnt a muddy gold. Sherlock hesitated – was it the right time to reveal his ability?- and only had time to dodge the spell.

Morgana shouted angrily as she released a new wave of magic. Sherlock saw he had no choice but use his power – his enemies would have known sooner or later after all.

The Prince raised his arm before Morgana's spell and orientated it just in the right direction to knock out Moriarty. The felon was out cold before knowing what had befallen on him.

Morgana stopped her attacks to stare at him with awe. He smirked and took out his sword in one short motion before bursting into a run towards her.

The witch took her knocked-out accomplice's hand and shouted a few words. A raw wind spirited her away before Sherlock could reach her.

The Prince, without stopping to catch his breath, turned around and went to King Arthur's side, purposefully not looking at the other boy. Arthur was laying on the ground, trying to prop himself up to reach his manservant but too weak to do so. Whatever energy he had seemed to have when Sherlock had entered the throne room had left him.

Behind Sherlock, John was waking up from the blast and scrambling to his feet. The knight went as quickly as he could to Arthur's side and began tending to him. Sherlock took a long breath, closing his eyes to calm down, and looked at the manservant.

**…****and he will see his brother for the first time in years in… 2015!**

**I wish you all to have a Happy New Year Eve and see you next year!**

**Don't forget to review :) (if you do maybe you'll get a special treat and a new update before 2015!)**


	15. Chapter 14

**Helloooooooooo!**

**Can you believe this? Two updates in less than 1 day! (I just spent two hours writing this non-stop!)**

**I have to admit that I felt (not so much, but still) guilty about last chapter's end, even more so when I read your reviews (Mwahahaha). Thanks to Superwholockingers (ahah), Daughter of Death and Magic (I am a Time Lady in disguise xD), Emmee (I hope less than one day is not too long a time to be teethering on a cliffie :D) and Sparky199 (Thanks for reviewing again! You are totally right!).**

**Okay, I know you all die to read this, so I stop torturing you.**

* * *

_…__and looked at the manservant._

Just before he saw him, though, he was tackled to the ground.

"Sherly!"

Merlin's nickname for Sherlock resounded in the room in a flurry of laughter and tears.

"Sherly! I remember you!"

He hugged back his little brother, as tight as he could.

"M-Merlin!"

Sherlock felt the huge pressure that had built up inside him since he had left Camelot turn into pure joy. He could not stop his tears from falling - and could not care less about not acting princely.

His little brother was alive and laughing in his arms.

"Merlin…I-I"

He burst into tears, relieved sobs rattling his body. He could feel far away his brother caringly rubbing circles on his shaking back.

"I am so so-sorry for not being there. I-I missed you so m-much."

Merlin tightened his hug, then let go to look at Sherlock. The Prince met his brother's bright blue eyes, the ones he had believed he would never see again.

"And I y-you, Sherlock."

* * *

Gaius could finally hear the faint echoes signalling a druid settlement. He had been hiking in this accursed forest of Essetir for hours on end, seeking the druids.

Back in Camelot, after the rude man that looked so similar to Merlin had broken the spell and freed him, Gaius had ran to the library. When he had reached the good row of shelves, he had pulled the dusty red book and, after looking behind him, had entered the secret part of the archives. The one concerning _magic_.

After a few hours of sneezing because of all the dust that had been accumulated by the long years of non-use, he finally found it. Hálignes bocfél, the enormous parchment containing the most powerful charms of the High Priestesses. As Gaius had expected, the spell Camelot was under was only wieldable – and hence breakable- by the High Priestess, Morgana. But the Court Physician guessed that Emrys would also be able to stop the magic. It was the only hope the people of Camelot had.

_After half a moon – commonly known as fifteen days-, the spell becomes irreversible._

When Gaius had read that line, he had closed the book, gone to the stables and rode to Essetir as fast as he could. And then he had lost precious time wandering in the forest. But now that he finally approached the druids, their camp fire seemed to shine with hope – Gaius blinked. He _really_ needed to rest.

He passed the magical barrier only allowing magic-users in the settlement and entered the druid camp.

A nod to Iseldir, the druid chieftain, was enough to make him understand the seriousness of Gaius' visit.

_"__Join me at the blue tent. We shall speak there."_

Gaius nodded again and followed the druid.

As he went to the tent, other druids elders stood up from around the camp fire and walked alongside him, seemingly alerted by mind-speech of the sudden gathering.

After Gaius exposed the situation and took out Hálignes bocfél of his bag – awed whispers acknowledging the book – Iseldir hurriedly sent a rescue party to Essetia. It would hopefully reach the city within two days - the druids could not simply teleport there as it would drain them of the magic they needed to keep to heal King Arthur and Emrys.

* * *

Not so far away, Hunith was mounting her horse and leaving Ealdor.

She was heading north, to Semloh, to inform King Mycroft of the situation. She was the only one that knew Prince Sherlock was walking right into a trap. She had to do this.

Thankfully, nothing stopped her race against time, and she reached the capital of the Northern Kingdom within three days. She got an audience with the King right when she arrived and nearly stormed into the throne room – she had lost enough time as it was.

"Your Highness, my lords." She bowed.

Mycroft, informed of the importance of the audience, gestured her to speak quickly.

"Camelot has been taken by the witch Morgana Pendragon and King Moriarty. The entire kingdom is under the witch's spell. Your brother reached the castle and met Moriarty, who let him go under a threat. Sherlock had to go to Essetia where King Arthur and his manservant –my adopted son- are held prisoner, otherwise Moriarty would kill them. Prince Sherlock shortly stopped in Ealdor, my village, during his ride and told me of the situation. Your Highness, your brother is knowingly walking into a trap."

Mycroft sighed, and was about to speak when Hunith continued.

"I believe that King Moriarty wants King Arthur to hand him over Camelot. And Moriarty will use your brother as hostage to force you to give up the throne."

Hunith looked down before speaking louder.

"And he may well have two hostages against you. I have every reason to believe that King Arthur's manservant, my adopted son, is Prince Merlin."

The court, already appalled by the news, gasped at her words.

King Mycroft himself paled but managed to keep his voice firm.

"What proofs do you have to support your claim about my youngest brother?"

Hunith did not break eye-contact with the King, and breathed deeply.

"I found my adopted son in the forest the day Prince Merlin disappeared. The five-year-old boy I found was unconscious, wet, and had a bleeding gash to the temple. When he woke up, he had no memories. After a month, I decided to name him Merlin after the Lost Prince I had heard about. He also has raven-black hair and clear blue eyes, just like Prince Sherlock whom I met three days ago."

A lord stood up.

"This is hardly-"

"This is not all." Hunith said, keeping her voice strong. "My son Merlin has powerful magic, and is called Emrys by the druids."

More gasps coming from the Lords. In Semloh, all knew of the legends, and remembered the little Prince had had exceptional magic.

"He is also a Dragonlord, the only one left."

Some Lords nearly jumped from their seats.

"This is preposterous, Your Highness. How dare she pretend Prince Merlin is alive after all those years!"

Mycroft raised his hand calmly – but his brown eyes betrayed his anguish.

"Be silent, Lord Anderson. She tells the truth."

He stood up and walked down the stairs that separated his throne from the rest of the assembly of Lords.

"I shall send an army to Essetir. Moriarty has gone too far and will be stopped. Sir Lestrade, gather the knights and prepare the troops. We ride at dawn."

* * *

**Yay! The plot thickens!**

**I hope this chapter was up to your expectations!**

**Don't forget to review!**


	16. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone!**

**Guess who has worked extra-hard! Three chapters in a week! Christmas has been rubbing off me, this is worrisome :)**

**This chapter is not really long, but it is an essential transition (I will not call this a filler, nope :P)! I hope you like it!**

**Special thanks to all the reviewers for last chapter:**

**Sparky199: You are my most regular reviewer ever! Thank you so much!**

**TobiasBoon: ahahah :) Here is 'more' !**

**Super-Sherlocked-Gallifreyan: I loooove your stories! I'll definitely keep reading them! Thanks!**

**Daughter of Death and Magic: Thanks for the review! It is so kind :) (I am sorry this chapter is even shorter than the last one...I'll try to do longer next time) :D**

**Emmee: I hope this was not an 'extra long' wait :P Thanks!**

**cattj003: Thank you for the nice review! Keep reading!**

**Okay, on with the fic!**

* * *

Morning _of the eighth day of Camelot's possession_

The news of the Lost Prince's possible survival spread like wild fire throughout the kingdom. The next dawn saw the army up and ready to leave for Essetir. The troops were stationing in the huge courtyard of the castle – it needed to be huge for the dragons to land on it, Hunith reflected. After all, this was a Dragonlord's kingdom -. All looked up at their King, waiting for the signal to march.

Hunith was walking down the marble stairs alongside King Mycroft, observing the monarch. The King held a resolute expression, his eyes firmly set on the assembly of knights and mages.

The time to finish it all had come.

* * *

The rescue party was scurrying through the forest of Essetir. The twelve druids had already been on the road for over a day, and hoped to reach Essetia before nightfall.

Alaric had never been that far away from the druid settlement. His camp was one of the last safe havens of Essetir, left untouched by Moriarty's greed. His home forest shone with life; there, the oaks would blaze with the greenest leaves, the birds would sing the purest melodies. As he ran, everywhere he looked was destruction, desolation, death. The burnt shapes of trees blurring past him were proof enough that Moriarty had to be stopped. The renegade had rampaged Essetir, leaving behind nothing but charred remnants. Emrys would help return life to the land – but for that, they needed to save him and the Once and Future King before it was too late.

Lost in thoughts, he nearly stumbled upon the druid leading the rescue. He cried out in surprise, causing one of the sternest elders to shoot him a glare. He instantly closed his mouth before looking up at what had caused the halt.

Two horses were riding their way.

On their back, four men – two on each horse.

Alaric reached out with his magic, and gasped.

Emrys, the Once and Future King, a Prince from Semloh, and, uh…a warrior of some kind.

But that was not what had caused his gasp.

The first two men were barely alive.

His healer-mode kicked in and he sprinted towards the horses, causing the riders to stop.

The black haired man from Semloh dismounted, careful not to cause Emrys – whom he had been holding during the ride - to fall off the horse. He nearly lost his footing, leaning against the horse to reduce his swaying, and glared at the druids.

'You took your time.'

And with that weird comment, the man passed out.

The warrior of some kind, a kind-looking fair-headed man, quickly dismounted his own horse and ran to his companion's side before Alaric could react. The man put two fingers to the Prince's neck and sighed in relief.

'Just unconscious. He hasn't properly slept in ages.'

After a few seconds, the man remembered that a dozen of druids were staring at him. He looked up.

'Are you druids?'

He seemed to reconsider his greetings.

'Well, go and help them. Quick!'

Alaric did not wait more to scurry at Emrys' side. After a small shock at his young age – he was only a few months older than Alaric himself!-, he carefully levered the thin body of one of the greatest legends of his generation on the ground. He placed his hands on the young man's chest, closed his eyes and let his magic scan the warlock's body.

_No obvious injury, slight dehydration, and-_

Alaric nearly released his magic in shock. Emrys had transferred his magic to King Arthur, and by doing so, had used up most of his life force. And by the impression Alaric got, he was still doing so - even unconscious and on the brink of death.

_Is the Once and Future King so hurt he is only holding on thanks to Emrys' magic?_

Alaric released his magic and mentally shared his conclusions with the other druids, who sombrely nodded.

They had to teleport the four men back to camp. Urgently.

The druids, helped by the warrior, quickly laid the three unconscious men together before organizing themselves in a circle, taking each other's hands and chanting.

Their chants grew in intensity before silence invaded the forest again.

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**

**Byyyyye :)**


	17. Chapter 16

**Hi!**

**Here is a new chapter :)**

**Sparky199 : Don't worry, I hadn't even thought about giving Arthur magic :P Thanks for the sweet review!**

**Daughter of Death and Magic: Well, this new chapter is (slightly) longer than the last one...Ahah, that's exactly what I thought when I wrote "Important, important...", I am glad you liked that part :D I hope you like this chapter!**

**Superwholockingers: Another cliffhanger is waiting for you at the end of this chapter. I just couldn't resist..woops :P Thanks!**

**Guest: Yay, "warrior" mode xD Huge thanks for reviewing!**

**CSIRide-Kirk: I am sorry not to have updated sooner (I have had a very busy beginning of the year, with tons of exams and homework...ughhh). But I will soon reunite the three brothers (perhaps...xD).**

**ThreeGoodReasons: Thanks for reviewing :D Hope you like this one too!**

**Have a nice time reading this, and don't forget to...review! :D**

* * *

Moriarty woke up growling, his face consorted in a mask of fury. _How dare his little cousin rob his prisoners? More importantly, how did he manage to overpower Morgana?_

He finally opened his eyes. Red tapestries were hung on the walls. The witch had transported him to Camelot, then. He pushed himself up and strode towards the throne room.

Morgana was already there, sitting on the royal seat. She threw him a glare.

"You knew! You knew Sherlock had this power! He was unaffected by my magic and even threw it back!"

_Uh oh._ Even Moriarty knew better than to enrage a mad witch.

"I assure you, I was unaware of this. It came as a surprise for me as well."

The witch stood up, her eyes flashing dark gold.

"Liar! You will pay for this-"

The big wooden door behind Moriarty banged open. A Camelot knight entered the room, his glazed-over brown eyes showing no reaction at the witch's shrieks. He walked past Moriarty, ignoring him completely, and bowed to the witch.

"Your Highness, you have one new message."

The witch glared one last time at Moriarty, her cold green eyes shooting daggers at him, before stiffly nodding to the knight, whispering: 'this vocal messaging stuff is really getting to my nerves…'

The knight opened his mouth and let out an eerie sound.

"Message one: the army of Semloh has been sighted. King Mycroft is leading his men to Essetir. He will get there tomorrow morning. End of new messages"

Morgana jumped from her throne.

"What!? How dare he attack us?! How was he even informed of his brothers' demise?"

Moriarty shrugged, but Morgana did not even look at him, lost in thoughts.

After a few seconds, the witch walked towards him and grabbed his arm. She shouted and her eyes turned gold.

The world became a blur.

Moriarty roughly landed on his backside in Essetia's own throne room. Morgana was standing at his side, already chanting another spell. Moriarty recognized it as the same she had used to take over Camelot.

So the witch was possessing Essetir's inhabitants to gather up a determined and obedient army, one that would fight to death. He inwardly smirked. Mycroft will have a nasty surprise when he gets here…

* * *

Iseldir and Gaius were sitting around the main campfire of the druid settlement, worry painted on both their faces. The rescue party had only been gone for a day, but it seemed they had been waiting for ages for their return. They hoped the travel to Essetia was undisturbed and that the party would reach the capital before nightfall and be back in two days. But the odds seemed so thin, Gaius reflected as the sun slowly set over the forest.

He sighed and stood up, startling the silent druid by his side. He bent to brush the dirt and leaves off his red physician's robes before walking back to his tent.

Just as he was reaching it, a loud whooshing sound came from behind him, and he turned around.

The rescue party had teleported back into the camp! But…

_Were the druids attacked before they could reach Essetia?_

_Why didn't they rescue Merlin and Arthur?_

_…__Were they even still alive?_

Gaius ran towards them and sighed in relief as he spotted a mop of blond hair at the middle of the commotion. Arthur was there, so Merlin was bound to be close.

He made his way towards the boys to greet them, before freezing.

Arthur and Merlin looked dead.

* * *

Meanwhile, Iseldir had also pushed the druids aside to gauge the situation. The dark looks had already informed him of the graveness of the men's predicament, but he had not expected this. He shouted orders at the druids and hurriedly levitated the two unconscious men into the infirmary tent.

He ordered all the healers to try and save Emrys while he healed the Once and Future King. Every druid knew how to set back bones and mend broken skin, but filling magic into a warlock had never been done before. Iseldir prayed on every Old Religion deity that they had not been too late.

He was just finishing with Arthur's right wrist when the tent's lid was opened. Emrys' brother.

The Prince of Semloh quickly glanced at him before shifting his attention to his younger brother's still body. Every healer was frantically working at replenishing the warlock's magic, but they were still far from reaching a stable state. Sherlock sighed before pulling a wooden chair near his brother's bed, careful not to be in the druids' way. The Prince let himself fall on it. Iseldir let out a small smile as he watched the Prince fighting to keep his eyes open but failing and falling asleep.

* * *

Sherlock woke up to a hand touching his shoulder. He moaned, trying to push the annoying hand off, before remembering the recent events. He forced his eyes open.

John was standing above him, smiling at him for falling asleep on a chair.

"Told you you needed rest, but you wouldn't listen."

A small, but steady voice piped in before Sherlock could answer.

"He has always been like that. Stubborn, that is."

Sherlock looked up to see his younger brother smiling fondly at him.

"Careful what you say, little bird. I might decide to tickle you!"

"Hey, not fair! I can't even retaliate! You are not ticklish!"

"Not my fault!"

"Is!"

"Nope!"

Iseldir entered the tent before Sherlock could actually start to tickle Merlin.

"I see you are awake, Emrys. Welcome!"

The druid chieftain began to bow, causing the young warlock to turn red in embarrassment.

"Don't!"

Iseldir looked up, startled.

'I mean, don't bow. And thank you for saving both Arthur and my life."

Iseldir started to bow again before stopping himself and answering.

"And thank you for helping to bring back magic to these lands, Emrys."

Merlin reddened even more, and Iseldir let out a small laugh at the all-mighty warlock's behavior before turning to face Sherlock and John.

"I cannot thank you enough for rescuing the Once and Future King and Emrys. You most certainly saved the future of us all."

John nodded at him before resuming looking over Merlin for any sign of remaining injury.

Iseldir fully looked at Sherlock, boring his sharp eyes into the Prince's.

"I sense something about you, though I cannot say what…I just know it will help us greatly."

Sherlock inwardly wondered whether Iseldir could be trusted or not with his special ability, but before he could say anything the druid turned around and left the tent. John looked at Sherlock with a knowing smile before leaving to find some breakfast.

After a few silent seconds, Merlin stood up to walk to Arthur's side. The King was fully healed and would be waking up soon.

As if on cue, the blond haired man woke up, his eyes blinking open before squeezing closed again at the harsh brightness of the day. Merlin laughed at him before handing him a glass of water.

"Wake up, lazy daisy! You've had enough beauty sleep!"

The King of Camelot jumped at the merry voice, his eyes finally opening.

"Merlin! Are you alright?"

Merlin gave him the biggest grin before answering.

"Never better. And you?"

Arthur's shoulders sagged with relief. Sherlock inwardly smiled. His little brother had found a great friend in Arthur.

"Actually, I feel good too."

He sat up and looked around, his eyebrows arching upwards more and more as he saw the druidic symbols on the tent.

"Where are we? How did we escape?"

"In a druid camp." Merlin pointedly smiled at Sherlock before continuing. "We are in Essetir, near the Northern border. But I can't be more precise as I have not left this tent yet."

Arthur stared at him.

"And how exactly would you know where we are, _Mer_lin, if you have not been outside?"

Sherlock jumped on the occasion of making a deduction contest.

"The type of leaves on the ground, obviously. Though the oaks they are from can also be found in Mercia."

Merlin smiled good-naturedly at him, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"That's why I eliminated that possibility when I saw what clothing the druid was wearing. This linen is typical from Essetir' Northern regions, and way too hot for Mercia."

That is when Arthur chose to tap Merlin on the shoulder and whisper to him:

"Who exactly is this man? He is the one that rescued us, isn't he?"

His friend's smile got even brighter as he answered.

"This is my brother."

Sherlock stood up, walking to the King's side as he silently drew out conclusions about the mysterious brother's identity. Sherlock grinned at Merlin for letting Arthur guess who he was before outstretching his forearm.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur pushed himself up and squeezed Merlin's brother's forearm in a knightly way, glancing at Merlin with a knowing look.

"Thank you for saving us, Prince Sherlock of Semloh."

Before Arthur could ask the Prince how exactly he had managed to rescue them from the witch and Moriarty, a young druid ran into the tent. Sherlock recognized him as Alaric, the one who had first tended to Merlin, back in the forest. The boy stopped in his tracks, looking at the prophesized men in front of him in awe – making Merlin redden even more - before remembering his message.

"Morgana just laid a spell over Essetir like the one in Camelot! Our camp was protected from the first blast of the possession spell by the wards, but they are quickly breaking down. If the magic enters the camp, we will all fall to the witch's control!"

He looked around to see Merlin running out of the tent.

* * *

**...What is going to happen? mwahahahah :D**

**About Arthur finding out who is Sherlock by himself : a) remember that Arthur heard Moriarty when he had recognized Merlin after he had been knocked out by Morgana in chapter 4 ("but this is the Prince"), b) Arthur isn't as dumb as we might believe (yes, well, sometimes xD) so drawing conclusions wasn't too hard (and c) Arthur could have also recognized Sherlock from descriptions ; it is likely that he roughly knows how every royal of Albion looks like so that he can easily identify them...).**

**I hope you enjoyed this new chapter, and don't forget to tell me about it by leaving a review (see that cute button lacking attention down there, yes, I do mean the little button you are thinking about) xD**

**Bye!**


	18. Chapter 17

**Hey!**

**Here is a new chappie xD I am sorry for the long wait (agaiiiiiin, I know, woops…), and I hope this will compensate it (this chapter isn't long but I couldn't add more, because I felt I couldn't divide in two the next big part of the story…you'll see xD).**

**Thanks to my fantastic reviewers, fastreader12 (your review was the reason I spent the last hours working on this to be able to post it quicky), Nataly SkyPot (gracias ****J****), TobiasBoon (yay! Neither can I!), IndiaMoore (thanks thanks thanks) and Spaarky199 (simple but really nice xD)! To all of you: keep revieing, and enjoy!**

* * *

The wards were falling. Merlin could feel them crack above his head, slowly but surely collapsing against the dark magic. The thin invisible dome was shattering against the black tendrils of magic banging against it.

The druid camp was in a frenzy. Everyone was running about to find a weak spot in the wards and try to patch it up. The druids were spread around the camp, their hands outstretched upwards and their golden eyes firmly set on their objective. The smallest kids were frowning in concentration, mumbling old magic charms. But their magic was tiring, the aggressing magic was too powerful.

Merlin quickly prodded at his magic, and was surprised to find it fully recovered so rapidly. He shook his head, refocusing, before raising his arms towards the wards. He delved into his powers, gathered them into his hands and released them with a flash of his eyes. Golden magic flew up into the dome, which immediately looked stronger. Merlin smiled. It felt good to be able to use magic without having to worry about being discovered.

To his and the druids' despair, the wards quickly began to collapse again because of the dark tendrils.

He exhaled before focusing and letting his magic flow out of his body and into the wards again. This time he did not stop pouring out his magic, and was again surprised at seeing it back to standard levels: his resources felt strong and nearly endless. He grinned a little – it had been too long since he had last felt this good. Moriarty and Morgana were going to pay back his days spent in the cells, his magic bound and hurt, forced to watch Arthur fade away.

_Come on, a little more…there._

He lowered his arms before looking up at the wards. They brightly glowed ; an ethereal but strong protection stood above the druid camp.

The druids around him ceased incanting and looked at each other with a relieved smile. Sherlock, who had ran after him when he had zoomed out of the tent, nodded at him, a proud gleam in his eyes. Merlin grinned before frowning. _What were Morgana and Moriarty planning?_

* * *

"You will go and set up an ambush in the plains of Niht. The Semlohians will walk through them just before dawn. You will attack and kill them all. I don't want prisoners."

The head knight of Essetir was kneeling in front of Moriarty's throne, his head bowed as he listened to the king. His eyes were glazed over - just as every other Essetian, the head knight was possessed and would obey his Queen and her puppet. Right now, the puppet was speaking, and he was nodding to his every word, showing his total and irreversible submission to him – that was only second to that the possessed Essetians held for their Queen.

"On a second thought, I would like you to capture my cousins and that dumb King of Camelot. I want to have some fun with them before they die." It was obvious even to the possessed man Moriarty was refraining from letting out a maniac cackle.

The knight bowed again before leaving to gather the soldiers and leave for Niht. The full forces of Essetir would be ready to slaughter the filthy Semlohians by morning.

Unbeknown to Moriarty, Morgana smirked as she listened from in the shadows of the dark throne room.

* * *

After his brother's display of raw power, Sherlock was asked by a worried Iseldir to follow him into the main tent. He entered the room to find his brother, John and King Arthur gazing apprehensively at an old druidess. He observed his surroundings for a short moment. The tent was large, but not too much; it felt just right. The walls were made of thick rich red tapestries, in which were delicately sewn shining protective runes. A ancient-looking wooden round table with carved druidic symbols and a set of stools were the only furniture in the room. Despite this, it felt welcoming and warm. Sherlock nearly smiled, unconsciously relaxing in the peaceful atmosphere, but his years spent repressing and not showing his feelings prevented him from letting down his neutral mask. He sat down on a stool at Merlin's right.

Iseldir went to sit at his brother's left before speaking up.

"I have grave news. Our Seer has foreseen a great battle between Semloh and Essetir, started by an ambush that will kill many. According to her vision, this battle will take place someday soon at dawn."

"It will be tomorrow at first light", Merlin cut in. "My mother, Hunith, must have managed to convince Mycroft to quickly come rescue Arthur and me. The travel from Ealdor to Semloh takes three days and marching troops would take two days to get to Essetir, which means Semloh's troops will cross the border tomorrow."

Sherlock nodded to support Merlin's estimations.

The druidess spoke up.

"As for the place of the battle, I have seen desert plains, with charred remnants of trees." The druidess shivered. "I had never seen such desolation. No birds, no trees, not a sound except for the howling wind. Moriarty's reign has destroyed this land. He must be stopped."

A short silence fell over the small assembly

Sherlock announced. "The plains of Niht, at the Eastern Border between Semloh and Essetir. It fits your description and Mycroft would have taken that path, as it is the quickest way for large troops. A small number of soldiers would have cut through the Northern forest, but a larger number needs space." He rolled his eyes. "Mycroft's idea of a rescue party must be sending in the whole army of Semloh." He whispered to Merlin. "Overprotective brother."

Merlin smiled at him before standing up and looking at Iseldir.

"I am leaving to warn Mycroft. I cannot let the men walk into a trap. I will fight alongside my people, and call in the dragons."

Sherlock and Arthur jumped up and spoke at the exact same time.

"I am going with you."

Merlin hid a smile as they eyed each other with respect.

John joined in, standing up as well.

"I am not missing a chance to kick Moriarty's backside. You can count me in."

"You can also count on the druids." Iseldir added. "We have an opportunity to fight for Albion and gain our long-sought freedom." Arthur looked down. "King Arthur, the druids do not hold you responsible for the Purges. You never did any wrong to the magical community."

After a few seconds of silence, Merlin spoke up.

"Sherlock, Arthur, John and I are going to meet up with Mycroft and warn him of the ambush. The druids can prepare here. I will contact you, Iseldir, through mind-speech, and the druids will teleport in the middle of the battle. That way we will have the advantage of taking Moriarty by surprise."

Iseldir nodded before leaving the tent to announce the upcoming battle to the druids.

Sherlock added. "Our troops will not turn around. The attack will take place, but with our own rules. Moriarty has reigned for too long. And this will be his last battle."

* * *

**Hope you liked it and review :)**


	19. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone!**

**I am so sorry for the long wait (I know, again :( :( :(). I've had tons of work and I went to New Zealand (yaaaaaaaaaay!) during my two-week holiday (it was way too short!)! Is anyone here from New Zealand or living there? :) :) :)**

**I came back on Sunday and I did my best to write this chapter as quickly and well as I could! I hope you'll like it, and tell me about it by leaving a review!**

**Special thanks to Mirlasse! I was overjoyed when I got your first review, and I just kept hitting the 'refresh' button to follow your reading of the story! I am so happy that you like this fic (I'll try to add in some Doctor when I get the opportunity xD)! I hope that the wait wasn't too long!**

**Thanks to the followers/favorite-rs and Nataly SkyPot, fastreader12, Sparky199 and TobiasBoon (this chapter is more of a reunion and preparation one, but you'll get tons of action in the next chapter, which will hopefully be up shortly! ;)) for the reviews! I hope you enjoy!**

**Allons-y !**

* * *

The three royals, and the ex-knight-recently-converted-bodyguard, appeared just outside the Semlohians' camp at dusk. Thankfully, no one noticed their arrival – they could have been taken for spies, lurking around the camp in the dying light of the day-. The camp was buzzing with restlessness as the men ran about, making the final preparations before resting for a last night.

Sherlock inwardly smiled at the thought of the enormous relief his brother was going to feel when he saw Merlin; he felt abnormally excited at the prospect of seeing Mycroft happy.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at his companions. John stood next to him, expertly looking over the camp. Arthur was gaping at his surroundings, amazed by the bit of magic his ex-manservant-recently-discovered-to-be-a-Prince had just performed to transport them. Talking about his brother… Sherlock turned around to look at him. Merlin was pale, biting his lip anxiously, but was at the same time bouncing with happiness. He felt his gaze and made eye contact with him. It was time.

* * *

As he walked down to the camp, Merlin could not help but think about the upcoming reunion. Would he recognize his brother? Would he be welcomed by all? How would the war end? Semloh's forces looked terribly few compared to Camelot's. And now that all of Essetir was also under Morgana and Moriarty's control, their chances looked grim. He did not want anybody to get hurt, and he knew that that was impossible. Even with the support of the druids and Kilgharrah, there would be casualties. The most terrible aspect is that they would have to fight against family, friends, people who had no control over their actions. What would he do if he was confronted to Gwaine, or Lancelot, of Percival? They needed to find Morgana quickly, and to make her lose her control over the army. But he had no idea as to where she was, and he knew that she would have powerful and trained sorcerers protecting her back. He also did not know how to counter the possession spell, and did not want to risk harming his friends – for all he knew, breaking the possession by force could well kill them through the link to their minds. He needed to talk to Gaius and Iseldir.

He emerged from his dark thoughts as they entered the camp. Soldiers were milling about, polishing weapons and talking to each other in anticipation. They barely glanced at them as they crossed the camp. At some point, he saw sorcerers training, practising their spell work against each other. He let himself imagine how it would feel now to be able to openly use magic. This would be possible here with the Semlohians. Perhaps it would even change in Camelot now that Arthur had accepted it. But first, they needed to stop Morgana and Moriarty.

He was jolted out of his musings when he nearly crashed into Sherlock, who had stopped in front of a huge blue tent. His brother's.

He took a long breath before following Sherlock in.

* * *

Mycroft was rubbing his temples, sighing as he thought about the upcoming battle. Their chances looked quite slim in front of the huge army that Moriarty was building, the united forces of two kingdoms, Essetir and Camelot. And to the stress of the battle was added personal anxiety: since Hunith had come, he had let himself believe his little brother was still alive, but what if he was indeed…dead? He sighed again, and leant against the backrest of the wooden chair he was sitting on.

After a few minutes, he got up to go check on his troops. Before he could, the tent's lid was drawn back and someone entered.

"Sherlock?"

He let out a relieved smile. He had been heading for Essetir to free his brother, but there he was, unarmed. His brother nodded at him, a small smile etched on his face. Mycroft closed his eyes for an instant.

Just like his brothers, he had special "abilities" that almost no-one knew of. The one he used most was entering the mind of someone in front of him and looking inside it. This took him less time than a blink. He deemed his ability as a very fine power for a King as he could judge and analyse people extremely fairly. Sherlock was the only one that could block him – much to Mycroft's frustration-, but he sometimes let him look inside his thoughts, when he did not want or did not have time to explain something aloud. Mycroft knew that that was one of those moments. A quick prod at his brother's consciousness and he was in.

Sherlock had prepared a layout of instants he wanted to show him, as he usually did. Most people had a fuzzy and untidy mind, but Sherlock could organize his extremely well – not that Mycroft would ever tell him-. He dived into his brother's memories of the past week. The first scene was his arrival in Camelot. Mycroft experienced the assault of the "black tendrils", which looked like the ones he had just seen spreading in the sky over Essetir. Next was his meeting of Morgana and _Moriarty _– he nearly tried to punch the man that had robbed him of his father and brother, in a very un-Mycroft-y manner, but remembered that it was only a memory-. He then saw Sherlock riding alone towards Essetir, and nearly smiled when he felt his brother's irritation directed towards him. The last instant showed a man riding at breakneck speed towards druids, supporting an unconscious blond-haired man, who was none other than the King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon.

Mycroft emerged from Sherlock's memories in a blur, feeling like Sherlock had hidden something important. He glared at him, but his brother just shrugged with a mischievous grin.

The fair-haired man from Sherlock's memories, an ex-knight of Essetir if his assumptions were correct, entered the tent. He did not scan his memories as he saw that King Arthur was next.

"Good evening, King Mycroft. I am pleased to meet you at last."

King Arthur's voice was a bit rough, but that was to be expected with the deadly injuries he had seen in Sherlock's memories. Mycroft stretched his arm to greet his homologue in a knightly manner.

"So am I, your Highness. I am pleased to see you well. Are you…"

He did not finish his sentence. While he had been welcoming the King, someone else had entered the tent. Someone with a raven mop of unruly hair and deep blue eyes.

Mycroft swayed, and was only prevented from collapsing by King Arthur's grip on his forearm.

"Merlin?" He whispered. Th-this had to be a trick from Moriarty, there was no way Merlin could be…

"Micky!"

A second later, he felt himself being engulfed in a hug, which he readily returned. His littlest brother was there, alive and well. Mycroft let down his mental barriers and let himself cry freely for the first time in years. Merlin was back.

He let his powers touch his brother's consciousness and closed his eyes. He nearly jumped when he felt Merlin's magical powers, which energetically swirled in his entire being – they had grown a thousand fold since he had last seen him. He had never felt that level of concentration before, and felt immensely proud of his brother, as he sensed that he was innocently caring and kind, uncorrupted by such tremendous power.

He distantly heard the ex-Essetir knight and Arthur leave the tent, and Sherlock sit down on his table, mixing up the neatly ordered paperwork.

His two brothers were here.

He closed his eyes and grinned.

* * *

John had left the tent, taking along King Arthur, who had been standing there, smiling -quite dumbly-. He felt the three brothers would want some time to talk. Arthur and he had to start preparing the troops. They had a war to win in the next morning, after all.

The two men walked around the camp, helping out the soldiers to sharpen their weapons or build fire camps for the night. Some knights recognized King Arthur and greeted him, surprised and glad to see him well and out of Moriarty's clutches. John asked them not to spread the news of his presence yet, as he felt that, if King Mycroft was anything like his brother, he would enjoy announcing the arrival of his brother and the foreign King himself.

The camp was well organized, and the soldiers were quick and effective; everyone knew each other by name and had a specific task for the night. The sorcerers worked harmoniously alongside the soldiers, much to the King's astonishment. Arthur jumped a few times when spells were being used, but after a while, he just shrugged his surprise away and let himself grinned. This was the beginning of a new era in Albion. That is, if Moriarty and Morgana did not win the battle.

He was shaken out of his troubled thoughts when a woman called his name.

He turned around and grinned.

"Hunith!"

Arthur seemingly knew her and stopped her when she started to bow to him. John laughed before whispering to her.

"Merlin is here, safe and well."

Hunith's stance relaxed enormously at his words, and she smiled at him.

"He is speaking with his brothers at the moment. They are in King Mycroft's tent."

She nodded before answering.

"I am going to see him. Thank you so much for saving Arthur and him."

* * *

Hunith waited a little outside the tent, as she heard Merlin, Sherlock and Mycroft talking. She smiled at the pure joy emitting from their voices. After a few more minutes, Sherlock came out, followed by Merlin.

"Mother!"

Merlin ran at her and hugged her tightly.

"I've missed you so much. What are you doing here? Oh, you went to Semloh to warn Mycroft, didn't you? You could have gotten hurt on the way. What if you had been hurt? I wouldn't have known!"

She kissed his cheek.

"You were in danger and I could help."

* * *

Merlin had been about to introduce his mother to Mycroft when a knight entered the tent. Sherlock smiled a little, and Merlin assumed the knight was Sir Lestrade, the only one his brother had talked about. His assumptions were proven right by Mycroft's greeting.

"Sir Lestrade. What is it?"

The head knight blurted out.

"The scouts, Your Highness. Only one has come back. Moriarty's forces are less than an hour away from here."

Mycroft looked gravely at Arthur, Sherlock and him.

"I am going to announce your arrival to the troops and get them ready for battle."

"I will mindspeak with Iseldir." Merlin added. "The druids should get here in less than ten minutes."

Sir Lestrade, who hadn't noticed him, frowned.

"Who are you? You remind me of someone…"

"Merlin!"

"…What?!"

Merlin flashed him a grin and ran out of the tent to contact the druids.

* * *

A few minutes later, the druids and Gaius teleported in a very confused but excited Semlohian camp. The troops had been overjoyed at seeing their Lost Prince again, and everyone had tried to speak to Merlin ever since. He was feeling very awkward with all the attention turned on him. As soon as the druids arrived, he readily excused himself and went to welcome them. He tried to speak to Gaius and Iseldir about the possession, but he did not get the time as Mycroft summoned everyone into his tent. They all sat down and started to quickly design tactics.

"We will fight from here, as we have the advantage of standing on the highest point of the plains." Announced Mycroft.

Iseldir nodded.

"We will put up shields around the camp. There are some that can only allow allies in. We could use those and turn the camp into an infirmary and a stock of weapons."

"I will help you do that." Merlin intervened.

"No, Emrys." Iseldir answered. "You shouldn't strain your powers. We will need them for the battle."

Sherlock, Arthur and Gauis nodded, making Merlin glare at them.

Just as the druids were about to chant the spells, a soldier came running into the tent.

"Moriarty's troops. They are here."

Shouts were heard in the distance as the ground began to shake.

It had begun.

* * *

**Mwahahaha! Hope you enjoyed, and review! I'll do my best to update quickly!**

**PS: this fic is now over 30k words! Yay!**


	20. Chapter 19

**Hey!**

**Sorry for the long wait (yet again :S).**

**Thanks to the new favoriters/followers and reviewers: 33 Vi (hit the refresh button during the next 2 weeks, and hopefully a new chapter will appear!), Jessieklove, AstreaJonesdauterofposiden, Nataly SkyPot and TobiasBoon (thanks! I'll try to reunite the brothers in the next chapters!)**

* * *

"Alright." Iseldir stated calmly. "Ailnor, Blowan, put up the best shield you can around this tent. We don't have time to protect the entire camp."

The two druids nodded and left the tent - Arthur guessed they needed to be outside to perform the spell-. He heard them talk quietly before beginning to chant. The King closed his eyes and almost smiled as he felt the protective streaks of ward magic weaving above his head. He still could not believe he had never seen magic for what it truly was.

Merlin was standing near the tent's entrance, clearly itching to leave the tent and dive into battle. His friend felt his gaze and strongly looked back. They would win tonight.

Arthur looked at Mycroft just as he touched his temple with his hand. The King closed his eyes for a second.

"I just scanned one of the soldiers' mind."

Arthur nearly gaped at him – he had not known the King of Semloh possessed such abilities, but that would explain the weird graze he had felt on his mind when he had arrived in the camp. Mycroft had certainly assessed his trustworthiness before welcoming him.

"The first wave of enemies is composed by non-possessed people, that had been gathering in the woods for quite some time. The possessed ones will not get here before morning. We need to find a counter spell before then."

Iseldir nodded.

"Alright. For now, we will fight alongside your men."

Without waiting, the druids ran out of the tent along with Sir Lestrade, John the ex-knight and Prince Sherlock.

Mycroft sighed and looked at his youngest brother.

"I would force you to stay in this tent, but I know that nothing could hold you here. Just…be careful, Merlin."

The youngest Prince let out a small anxious smile as he watched Mycroft grab Arthur's forearm in the knightly custom. The King of Semloh then unsheathed his sword and left the protection of the tent.

Merlin and Arthur were now the only ones left in the tent. The ex-manservant shot his friend an almost desperate gaze before looking down. Arthur frowned.

"Merlin, what –"

The warlock met his gaze.

"I- Please, trust me."

With that, Merlin took a long breath, snapped his head back and roared.

* * *

Sherlock left the tent and unsheathed his sword, John by his side.

The camp was unrecognizable. Most of the tents had gone to ashes, or were in process of burning down. The smell of the dust was already mixed up with the bitter stench of blood. Spells were flying everywhere, and -

"Duck!" Sherlock shouted as he jumped in front of John.

A green coloured spell hit Sherlock's arm before fizzing out of existence. John smiled gratefully, before parrying a blade meant for Sherlock's back, and cutting the aggressing man down.

"What was that?" He shouted over his shoulder, as they hurried towards a new wave of soldiers, ducking and swirling their blades into their enemies.

"Killing spell." Sherlock shouted back. "You'd have been dead on the spot".

John blanched slightly before jumping into the heat of the action, only stopping once to look up and see a –_what was that?-_ a dragon flying over his head, and breathing flames over the enemy troops. He suddenly felt very glad that he had resigned from the Essetian army.

* * *

Merlin waved his hand absently, making yet another soldier fly away from him.

_So... we need to somehow get Morgana to stop the possession?_

Merlin asked Gaius, through the mental link he had just woven between his mentor and himself. Iseldir had taught him the theory during his short stay in the druid camp. The middle of a battle had seemed a good place as any for a first try, which had obviously been successful, thank you very much.

_Yes. In order to do that, you either need to make her willingly end it, or to…_

Merlin sighed as he shielded himself from a huge ball of fire.

_To kill her._

Gaius took some seconds to answer.

_According to the druids and the books I brought from Camelot, it is the only way._

Merlin frowned as he cast a mini-tornado towards a sorcerer too close to Arthur for his liking.

_But there must be some other way. I am going to ask Kilgharrah._

Merlin closed his eyes and reached out to the Dragon.

_"__Kilgharrah?"_

_"__You must do what is necessary, young warlock. I am sorry."_

Merlin mentally nodded. Another sorcerer suddenly found himself lifted up in the air and thrown against a tree.

_Gaius, you still there?_

_Yes, my boy._

_I will find another way. Where do you think she is? _He asked as he swirled around to counter a nasty cutting spell.

_The druids think she is controlling the troops from Camelot. She must have devised a trap for you there. She has access to all the magic books and the artefacts Uther gathered during the Purge. Please be careful._

Merlin felt Gaius' consciousness send off a protective feeling, before withdrawing from the link. He blasted off a new series of sorcerers, bent on killing him, with a flash from his eyes.

The warlock made his way up to Arthur whilst contacting Iseldir and informing him of the situation.

Just as he reached Arthur, he felt something different coming from the man his friend was about to stab. Without thinking, he pushed the enemy away from Arthur's blade and knocked him out.

A quick prod at the man's mind left him horrified. It just oozed wrongness. Morgana's hold over the man was stronger than he could have thought possible. She could snap his neck with a thought.

He tried to fight the magic away from the man, but his magic just ripped over the surface of the black tendrils.

"What are you doing, Merlin?" Arthur grabbed his arm, shaking him out of his trance. He felt his friend pull him away from the front line.

"Th-the new wave of enemies is possessed. Try not to kill them." Arthur drew a sharp breath and nodded.

Merlin, with a small flash of his eyes, took down three soldiers that had teamed up to creep on them from behind.

"Alright. Try to find the others and stay with them. Bedyrne mec þanonweard to Camelot-"

Arthur, recognizing the beginning of teleportation spell, took hold of his arm, shouting over the picking-up wind.

"You aren't going after Morgana and Moriarty without me, dollophead."

* * *

**Feel free to comment!**


	21. Chapter 20

**Hey!**

**This story is now one year old! :) **

**Also...**

**Long time no see...mwahahaha (that was the Moriarty in me speaking) :)**

**(...what can I say to earn your forgiveness? :S)**

**Well, I expected to have more time than usual to write during my long-anticipated summer holiday, and I was proven wrong, as this is the end of August and I only managed to write a poor, lonely chapter in need of positive reviews (:D). I hope you like it :)**

**Many thanks, as usual, to the favoriters, followers, reviewers and readers (in the hope that these anonymous readers will choose to review/follow/favorite after getting their minds blown by this awesome new chapter xD)**

**Special thanks to WaitingForLife2Begin (I read your review when I finished writing this chapter, and added your request in post-editing :)), Summerose (Such a nice review! Thank you!), NatalySkyPot (Gracias :)), 33Vi (I know I promised to post a new chapter before the middle of July, and I am sorry to have kept you waiting :( Hopefully I'll manage to be quicker next time! I loved your review, and the nice question at the end!), and JessykLove (Thank you for this review :) this was posted as ASAP-ly as I could!).**

**Thanks to all again, and enjoy this 20****th**** chapter!**

* * *

Merlin and Arthur appeared in Gaius' chambers in a soundless whirlwind. The warlock immediately turned to his friend.

"You should not have come."

His remark was met by an unabashed shrug and a fierce, resolute stare. Merlin sighed, but let out a small grin. Arthur still trusted him and wished to stand at his side, even after discovering about his magic, even just after he had summoned a supposedly dead dragon. But it was not the time to rejoice. They had two mad relatives to stop.

"Are you alright?" He whispered.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Never been better. Come on, no time to lose. We should head to the throne room."

The two royals silently made their way out of the physician quarters. No one was to be seen. Merlin reached for Arthur's arm.

"Wait. This could be an ambush. I am going to check."

The warlock closed his eyes and reached out for life forms or spells. He was immediately assaulted by black tendrils, and had to fight to remain standing. The oppressing darkness of the possession spell oozed over him, relentlessly tearing at his magic, at his entire being. Merlin immediately pushed them away from him, forming an bright unbreakable bubble-like shield around Arthur and himself. But the foreign spell overpowered his magic sensors and blocked them from detecting any traps. He snapped his eyes open and shivered; never had he felt so magically blinded. This sensation was even worse than that of the magic-suppressing chains. Arthur grasped his shoulder and looked at him in concern.

"I am fine," He breathed out. "But Morgana's magic keeps mine from scouting out. Watch out for anything."

* * *

It felt so strange to sneak into your own castle, Arthur couldn't help but reflect. They had been walking for several minutes now, not seeing a soul. Never before had Camelot felt this lifeless.

After tiptoeing through another couple of desert corridors, his manserv-the Prince of Semloh gasped and stopped. Arthur reached for his sword.

"What is it?"

Merlin just whirled around, held out his hands and shot a white light – a stunner, Arthur recalled- toward the other end of the corridor they had just crossed.

A hollow, almost painful-sounding cackle resounded from there, making him cringe. Arthur squinted his eyes at the bright spell which had just emerged from Merlin's outstretched hands. The light suddenly fizzled out of existence in a loud bang, banished by a foreign magic. Smoke invaded the room.

"Look at you, _brother. _Cowering in your own kingdom. How the mighty have fallen_._"

An arrow-like green spell shot out from the smoke. In a blur, Arthur felt himself pulled behind Merlin, protected by a warm transparent shield. He could only gap at the wordless spells the warlock shot back at the sorceress, expertly twirling raw magic around his fingers, whilst his body subconsciously adopted a fighting stance.

After banishing another green-tinted spell, he quickly moved his hand. The smoke faded out, revealing the sorceress hiding within.

"Morgana," The most powerful warlock ever to walk Albion whispered dangerously.

"You have brought suffering and despair to the land in your mad quest for power," His whisper escalated into a deep dragon-like shout. "This shall stop, for now and forever."

Merlin let loose of the binds around his own magic, allowing Arthur and the sorceress an insight on his true power. The warlock was standing at the center of a golden storm, his eyes shining as if two stars had graced the Earth with their immortal glow. This bright magic thrummed defensively around Arthur, reminding him of the comforting sensation he always felt in Merlin's presence. His friend rose his elfin hands and steadily held them towards the sorceress. Without a word, Morgana's own magic appeared as well. A slightly duller shade of gold enveloped her, intertwined with the black tendrils Arthur knew to be the core of the possession spell. The sorceress kept her eyes on Merlin, a shadow of a smirk on her lips.

"No one can break this spell, not even the treacherous _Emrys_," She bit out. "_Astrice_!"

Three red bolts sped towards Merlin. They faded out long before reaching any of the royals, the sole haze of Merlin's magic completely dissolving the curses. Morgana let out a feral groan, and dark flames suddenly engulfed Merlin. Arthur could only observe, letting out a relieved breath, as they instantly turned into water. It solidified into ice as it flew back at the sorceress, crushing her hastily-raised shield and sending her flying into the stone wall behind her. She crumpled to the ground, and was maintained in unconsciousness by Merlin's sleeping spell.

The warlock closed his eyes and exhaled. His own bright magic rose into the air, reaching out to Morgana's. The clearer gold slowly turned around the black tendrils, securing an ethereal grip over them. With a little movement of his hand, the first tendril was detached from Morgana's magic. It immediately sought out a new source of energy, and lashed out at Merlin's core. He flicked his fingers in a complex motion, forever destroying what had caused the possession of thousands. He severed the other tendrils with the same technique, and seemed completely unfazed by the wild dark magic attacking him. A few seconds later, and the possession spell was only a bad memory.

Immediately, running footsteps could be heard around the castle, the usual frenzy before battle. The clanging of swords being hastily grabbed from the castle's reserve, and the ominous ringing of the warning bells.

Camelot was itself again.

Merlin's eyes shot open, and the heavy thrum of his magic disappeared, along with all the surreal colors surrounding the two magic users. He grinned and let out a small relieved laugh, before stumbling forward. Arthur was by his side in a blink, looking over his friend with concern.

"I am fine, Arthur," Merlin rolled his eyes. Meeting Arthur's unbelieving stare, he hesitantly added. "It's okay, I just used this form of magic for the first time...?" Arthur still did not let his friend stand up. "I swear, sometimes you are worse than Gaius. It's called exhaustion, Arthur. E-X-H...-"

"-Are you sure you will be fine, Merlin?" The King could not help but ask.

"Don't worry, dollophead," His friend went back to their usual banter, much to Arthur's relief. It meant he did feel good enough to behave like his usual, obnoxious self. "I made what I can usually See visible to regular vision, as the possession curse was blocking my magic sight. Thanks to this I was able to visualize the curse and detach it from its source of energy, Morgana," He shrugged. "I just underestimated how much energy holding it for several minutes represented. This can happen even to the _great_ and _mighty_ Emrys, you know."

Arthur smiled, and mock-whacked Merlin on the head.

His friend's sparkling blue eyes flashed gold again, and color returned to his cheeks. Some of this energy seemed to flow into Arthur as well, who felt the bags under his eyes disappear. They both stood up, and turned to the unconscious form of the sorceress.

"Time to finish this."

* * *

Gwaine was decidedly having a bad, _bad_ day. First, he woke up feeling as though he had spent the previous night at the pub -which, admittedly, was a sensation he was used to-, but the annoying thing was that he could not recall spending it there. In fact, what he seemed to recall was being possessed by _Morgana, _of all people.

And what made his day a bad, _bad_ day was that he seemed to remember, in the corner of his mind, that he had helped imprison his best friend and his King, and had attacked someone looking like his best friend during a forced "patrol" in the dungeons.

As soon as Gwaine recalled these rather annoying episodes, he ran to the castle -he had, for some unknown reason, woken up in Camelot's stables, face first in something brown and stinking he would rather not meet again in such closeness-. He was the first to reach the training grounds, and from there to get to the castle's stack of weapons. He hastily grabbed a sword, and was about to leave when the rest of the round table knights arrived. They all took a weapon, looked at each other, and, on a silent agreement, went out different ways to look for potential threats: they had no idea as to what had caused Morgana to release her possession. The rogue sorceress could still be in Camelot.

Gwaine decided to head for the main corridor, between the throne room and the castle's kitchen. It was the one by which he always made a detour to talk with Merlin, before the morning sword training. He was just about to reach it when he heard a swooshing sound. He turned around to see a huge form appearing in the middle of the castle. The knight blinked once, twice, before accepting for a fact that seven people had just materialized into Camelot. The weirdest fact was that the man standing closest to him looked like the one he had attacked in the dungeons – Gwaine could only hope he had not come to avenge himself, he just wasn't in the mood-.

"We are here to help you, knight of Camelot," announced the familiar looking man. "Lead the way." He had a deep voice, unlike Merlin, as well as a slightly different set of cheekbones, and curlier hair, but the physical differences stopped there. Same eye color, same pale complexion. A relative of him, perhaps?

Anyway, Gwaine sensed he was on his side. Morgana did force him to attack this man, so he must have been nice.

"You know, you people did illegally use magic to breach into Camelot's castle. Who are you?" Gwaine couldn't help but ask as he led the small group towards the main corridor.

"I am Sir Lestrade, pleased to meet a fellow knight." Gwaine shook the scruffy-looking man's hand.

"My name is Iseldir, and I am the chieftain of the druid people of the North," Answered a brown-haired man wearing long green robes. "I have come with Alaric and Mary." Gwaine identified Alaric to be the youngest boy of the group. Mary was a blond-haired druidess who smiled in acknowledgment when the knight looked at her. She was holding the hand of a man who introduced himself as Watson, John Watson.

The two other men did not have time to share their identities to Gwaine, as sounds of running footsteps could be heard from the left pathway. The group headed there without a sound. The two unnamed people, Lestrade, John, and Gwaine unsheathed their swords silently; and all ran into –

-the other Camelotian knights. Who shot a look at Gwaine.

"Nice to meet you and all," Elyan told the strangers, "but honestly, Gwaine, where did _they_ come from?"

"Is this King Mycroft of Semloh?," Percival was looking intently at the regal looking man who, if Gwaine remembered well, had not said a word since appearing in the castle.

"And you are... Prince Sherlock?," quickly added Percival at the annoyed look the Merlin-like man shot him. The Prince let out a small satisfied smile at being recognized.

"It is us," Mycroft answered. "We have come to help King Arthur and my brother free Camelot."

This sounded a good enough explanation to the knights, who hastily bowed and continued looking for their King.

Lancelot suddenly frowned.

"Wait on. Your _brother_?"

* * *

**And Mary's cameo to thank a new reviewer, WaitingForLife2Begin!**

**Gwaine did attack Sherlock in the cells (chapter 10, I believe xD). I know, I know, I published the chapter months ago, and I will understand if you can't remember :)**

**I also know that I keep promising this, but hopefully next chapter will be up in no time!**

**Keep the reviews flowing in :D**

**Airin9**

**(This story will reach its end in a couple (or more) chapters! Who would like a sequel? :))**


	22. Chapter 21

**Hi!**

**I hope you all had a very merry Christmas :)**

**I can't believe I took four months to update. I am so terribly sorry.**

**Hope you like this new chapter, and the next should follow before the end of the week.**

**I am going to see Star Wars VII tomorrow. I can't wait! As I live in France, it aired on December 16 (before the UK/US, lol XD), and I am really frustrated not to have seen it yet. It is going to be awesome! (my cousins nearly spoiled parts of it but I glared at them and they stopped. I think I scared them - they don't understand fandom behaviour...yet - xD).**

**Thanks to everyone for reading, and keep reviewing/following/favoriting!**

**You culpabilize me for not writing for ages and that tortures me until I write and post a new chapter... :)**

**Thanks to Jessieklove, Nataly SkyPot, ****CSIRide-Kirk, 33Vi (Thank you very much :) :) I can't wait for the Sherlock 'Christmas' (more like 'new year' lol) special and season 4 toooooo :)) and TobiasBoon (I hope you like this chapter :D)!**

* * *

_This situation certainly was confusing_, Leon couldn't help but think. He had just woken up sprawled across the staircases leading to the dungeons -not a comfortable position to say the least, but more honorable than the position Gwaine had woken up into -, painfully gotten up, met up with the other Round table knights, walked around the castle to try to make some sense out of the weird situation, and now he had just ran into a group of druids claiming that the tragically famous Lost Prince of Semloh was currently helping King Arthur to re-take Camelot.

He could feel his pounding headache increase by the minute. What a mess.

Still, Sir Leon was a professional, and his knightly sixth-sense was screaming at him to go to the throne room. He emerged from his thoughts and looked at the unusual group of fighters around him.

"Let's go to the throne room. The worst things tend to happen there, don't they?"

* * *

Morgana was fuming, both figuratively _and_ literally. A few moments before, she had felt consciousness rush back at her, and had opened her eyes before shutting them again and pretending to still be unconscious. _Merlin, _that hated traitor, had been standing over her, discussing her fate with Arthur. She had probbed at her magical core and found it quite depleted. Repressing the urge to strangle Merlin, she had grabbed a black gem from a hidden purse. After focusing, she had disappeared from the corridor before Merlin could move to stop her.

Morgana had opened her eyes in Camelot's throne room. She had rubbed her temples and had not been able to prevent Merlin's face from coming to her mind. She had growled and let out her frustation in a small blast of magic... her dress may or may not have caught on fire. She had snarled and put out the fire after checking that no one had seen her uncontrolled outburst – yes, she _was_ an evil sorceress, but she couldn't exactly run around half-naked because she had evilly burnt down her robes -.

_So, Merlin thinks he has won..._

Ignoring Moriarty, who had just stridden into the room and smirked at her appearance, she walked to the window and started to chant. As her magic levels were still quite low, she dug into the magic she had accumulated in cristals that her sister Morgause – who represented yet another reason to _hate_ Merlin – had given her years before. _This was a noble use of her sister's gift_, she thought with a smirk. Her chanting, a mere hum to start with, evolved with a buzzing, eery dimension, and her eyes glowed gold as a portal appeared in the courtyard of Camelot.

Concentrating, she called onto the armies of Essetir. Merlin may have ended her possession of the Camelotians, but she had made sure the Essetians would never be free by using a spell which did not attach itself to her core but to a hidden, external artefact - a pendant hidden in her old room in Camelot-.

The Essetians came through her portal like a dark wave, a foreshadowing army bringing the sweet promise of Camelot's final fall.

* * *

Gwaine was not happy. He was exhausted, he stank, and a foreign army was pouring out of nowhere into Camelot's courtyard. This was definitely a terrible day.

Without pausing to look at the others, he screamed "For Camelot", drew out the sword he had gotten from the weapon stock, and dove into battle. Elyan, Leon, Percival, all echoed his battle cry and followed him.

Behind them, Mary met John's gaze. Druid and ex-Knight adopted a duo fighting stance. Advancing back to back into the battle, they swirled around their enemies' blades, Mary shooting spells with a frightening accuracy for a supposedly peaceful druid, John efficiently cutting down his opponents while trying not to kill them – the people they were fighting _were_ possessed -. They paused, looked at each other with a small smile, and resumed their fight.

* * *

Iseldir, Alaric, Mycroft and Sherlock decided to head off to the throne room. While they walked hurriedly through the corridors circling the castle's façade, Iseldir observed the battle in the courtyard. Most of Camelot had awakened from the possession and was now fighting the unwilling, possessed invaders. But none could fend off the bloodthirsty sorcerers in the enemy's ranks.

He closed his eyes.

_Seowán, how is the battle evolving in Essetir?_

After a few seconds leaving him to dread the worst for his friend, he sighed in relief.

_We were starting to be pushed back, but the attack stopped. It seems a portal has been opened. The enemy's troops are disappearing._

Iseldir felt danger coming his way, and mentally sighed while ducking out of the path of a wayward arrow.

_They are appearing here, in Camelot's courtyard._

Seowán answered instantly.

_Shall we follow them, Iseldir?_

The druid chieftain opened his eyes and gazed sadly at the bloodshed taking place in the white-stoned city.

_Take volunteers and come. Camelot is entering its darkest hour._

* * *

Moriarty smirked and joined Morgana at the window overlooking the battle. He had just left the castle's reknowned library after finalizing the preparations for what he liked to call _the_ ritual. A ritual that would allow him to put his hands on what he had always craved; magic. He was born without an once of magic in his body, and always resented his gifted, unique, adored cousins because of this. He liked to think that his resentment had turned to anger, his anger had turned to hatred, and his hatred had given him the throne of Essetir. Still smirking, he eyed Morgana, who seemed mesmerized by the massacre below. _She would not know what hit her... no one would._

Morgana's eyes suddenly widened, and she turned around and walked into the throne room, followed closely by Moriarty. It seemed that the brothers and the fallen king had arrived.

* * *

Mycroft paused at the throne room's door and exhaled, focusing on his power, his mind-reading ability that had always irked his brother Sherlock, much to his own amusement. He probbed out and felt the presence of their two enemies, alone. _This was a trap._

Foodsteps resounded against the cold stones behind him, and he turned around. Arthur and Merlin, looking worse for wear, were coming down the corridor. After short silent greetings, the druids and the royals firmly set their eyes on the two ominous wooden doors. Mycroft could not repress a small shudder as they opened on their own.

Morgana was standing in front of them, hands buzzing with magic. Moriarty was slightly behind, looking at his nails in pretended boredom. The enemies observed each other while the throne room's doors closed behind them.

Mycroft took the opportunity of this short-lived pause to inspect Moriarty's mind for traps. Brushing off the renegade's hatred towards them and annoyance at Morgana, he unveiled a hidden, new plan. Moriarty was... was planning to use an old ritual to steal the magic of the most powerful being in the vicinity. Alarmed, he reached out for Merlin. The movement made everyone's gazes jerk towards him, and the fight began.

Mycroft tried to reach Moriarty, to stop him from carrying out the dark ritual, but Morgana seemed intent at killing them all before her ally could. He could do nothing but join Arthur, Merlin and the two druids as they directed their attention at Morgana, misjudging the danger that Moriarty posed. The sorceress snapped out a long series of curses which Alaric hurriedly deflected while Iseldir and Merlin shot off spell after spell at her.

The throne room's door was blasted open and a dozen of sorcerers harboring Moriarty's colours charged into the room, attacking everyone with dark magic.

Merlin's aura became brighter and brighter as he released his powers against his opponents, as he danced around the curses, as he parried blow after blow and twirled around his friends to save them from bright and deadly beams of magic. Iseldir and Alaric fought relentlessly, landing painful blows on their opponents, cutting down the rogue sorcerers, infusing the royals' blades with magic so that they could join the fight with equal chances. Mycroft looked around after knocking a sorcerer out with the hilt of his sword. King Arthur and Sherlock were protecting Merlin's back, blocking every spell and suppressing the sorcerers' magic as they sparred.

A new wave of sorcerers and fighters rushed into the room. Merlin managed to take some down before it happened.

Moriarty was standing in a circle of his own blood, holding a dark red cristal in front of him. Time seemed to stop as he opened fiery eyes and barked out a single word.

_Forswelgan_, Absorb.

Mycroft helplessly watched Merlin collapse with a strangled shout. A golden flow of magic began to leave his brother's writhing body. The bright, friendly hums of magic were ruthlessly sucked by Moriarty.

Mycroft's trembling legs regained movement and he jumped between Merlin and Moriarty, hoping against hope that it would stop the ritual. But the flow continued as his world went black.

* * *

**As always, I love reviews more than chocolate (and _that_ is saying something) and I hope that I'll be posting a new chapter before the Sherlock special on January 1!**


	23. Chapter 22

**Hi!**

**Here is the 23rd chapter of Conspiracies, as promised :)**

**I saw Star Wars VII (in IMAX, hehehe) yesterday and it was amazing! I loved it! (I have already read a dozen of fics about it in the SW archive... :D)**

**Thanks to Jessieklove and What about Yesterday for reviewing/following/favoriting :D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Arthur could only watch as his best friend collapsed and as King Mycroft ran into the flow of magic and was blasted into a wall by the sheer force of the ritual. The King of Semloh flew into the hard wall and passed out in a painful-sounding crack. Enemies were running into the room, but Arthur felt too numb to fight. He managed to parry the worst blows but was soon overwhelmed. He felt his arms being pulled behind his back, and exchanged an anxious glance with Sherlock and the druids, who were being subjected to the same treatment. He was swiftly knocked out by a blow to his temple.

* * *

Merlin felt numb as he gradually crept his eyes open. Arthur, his brothers and the two druids were uncounscious, bound and gagged like him, sprawled on the ground of a small and damp cell in Camelot's dungeon. He faintly made a mental note to mention the decrepit state of the dungeons to Arthur and make him renovate the cells for the next time they ended up in them.

He was suddenly assailed by a terrible emptiness. He closed his eyes to open them again in distress. His magic was not there.

His breath came in too short as he inhaled painfully through the gag. The world seemed colourless, his normally sharp senses hauntingly dulled by the absence of his magic.

Feeling a too warm, too achingly reassuring unconsciousness rush back at him, he tried to calm down. Next to him, Mycroft opened blurry eyes which soon cleared out as they focused on him. Merlin tried to convey some comfort, but his pain-filled expression betrayed his utter panic. Reaching out again, he tried to feel some magic in him, like he had when he had had the magic-suppressing collar. But then, he had been able to feel something. Now, he was met by a foreboding void which sent him into a new wave of anguish. Trying to even out his breathing again, he looked at Mycroft and tried to reassure himself they would find a way out. But his magic was gone. He remembered the words of Kilgharrah: his magic was the essence of his being. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the fact that he could feel his force fading away with each passing minute.

* * *

Alaric had never been knocked out before. Sure, he had passed out from magical exhaustion more than once – it happened to all magic apprentices, after all -, but being in a battle and waking up gagged and bound in a dark, humid cell certainly was a new aspect of his life. He painfully opened his eyes to see Iseldir passed out in front of him. A quick visual inspection assured him that the druid chieftain was not injured. He breathed out in relief.

He could feel other people behind him, and twitched around to look at them. King Arthur was unconscious as well and sported a non life-threatening, but painful-looking gash to his side. Sherlock's eyes were open, and the Prince met his gaze when he looked at him. He tried to smile to him through the gag, before looking at Mycroft. The King of Semloh looked exhausted, and was staring at his younger brother. Merlin had his head down and was trembling violently. Alaric closed his eyes, trying to block out the distressing situation. Before being knocked out by one of Moriarty's sorcerers, he had seen the evil King of Essetir begin to conduct some kind of ritual, but the young druid did not know what it was. Alaric tried to reach for his magic to probe at Merlin's magical aura, but his powers were reflected back at him. He was collared. Even if this was only his first experience of war, he knew that the situation was dire, and could not help but dread as he tried to nudge Iseldir awake with his foot.

* * *

The silence was deafening in Camelot's streets. The rebelling Camelotians, after the defeat of the small group in the throne room, had been magically restrained by a newly-empowered Moriarty and a surprised and worried Morgana. She had not known about this plan, and she hated to think about the consequences... Moriarty, with Emrys' powers, could well be her prophesized doom. She sighed and headed to the throne room for a meeting with her _beloved_ ally.

* * *

Sherlock was thinking. His brother had just been brutally robbed of his magic, and he knew that Merlin was so linked to it that he was going to die if he did not recover his magic soon. Even if there seemed to be no way to reverse the odds and save his brother and Camelot, Sherlock refused to sit around in this definitely uncomfortable cell and do nothing.

Moriarty had stolen Merlin's magic through a ritual... a ritual... Sherlock remembered a ritual led by a dark sorcerer in Semloh years ago, that rejuvenated the caster through stealing the victims' life force. An entire village had suddenly aged by ten years. Sherlock had hunted down the sorcerer to make him reverse the ritual, and after some convincing from Sherlock's part, the sorcerer had revealed that nothing could counteract the magic. But Sherlock's powers had flared up and the villagers had returned to their normal age. He wondered if such a thing could happen again. As he met Alaric's anxious gaze, he could only hope so.

He continued to rub his wrists together – he had done so ever since waking up half an hour ago -. He could feel them reddening, but ignored the protests of his skin. A few minutes later, two guards walked down the dungeon's corridor, followed by King Arthur's knights. They were unhurt, and looked vexed to have been captured. One of them, the one called Gwaine, who had attacked him during his first visit of the dungeons a few days before, met his gaze. Sherlock nodded, trying to look confident to maintain the knight's morale, and promised himself they would get out soon.

Just as he did so, the ropes fell off his wrists. He grinned, and untied his feet before walking over his friends and freeing them, taking the magic-suppressing collars off the druids. Alaric looked up at him with relieved eyes, and lunged at a waking Iseldir with a small smile.

Sherlock looked around. Merlin was extremely pale, but his expression displayed a strong, unwavering determination. Everyone was awake and set on defeating the two residing evil dark lords. Now, how to get out of a heavilly guarded dungeon?

* * *

_Merlin!_

Merlin jumped as he heard a voice in his head that he had thought never to hear again in such a way.

_Kilgharrah! You cannot believe how relieved I am to hear you! How am I even able to talk with you like this, as I have lost my m...magic...?_

Merlin shuddered at the terrible admission and closed his eyes, hoping for a positive answer to clear his seemingly dark future.

_A dragonlord's bond to a dragon is stronger than a mere ritual. And so is your bond to magic. No spell could ever completely break it, young warlock._

Merlin exhaled as he released a part of a dizzying anxiety that assaulted him.

_I am glad to hear that, Kilgharrah._

Looking at Sherlock, who was still trying to come up with a way to escape the dungeons, he thought to Kilgharrah:

_What do you think about breaking us out of Camelot's cells?_

* * *

**I'd love to read some reviews before 2016 *hint, hint* :) Happy New Year in advance everyone, and I hope you liked this chapter!**


	24. Chapter 23

**Hello!**

**Please forgive me for not updating sooner. I wish to thank Nataly SkyPot, 33Vi, Jess K. Reagan, Umiko9692, TobiasBoon and all of you who favorited/follow this story :)**

* * *

Merlin got up, his legs trembling. The world swayed and he faintly felt himself lean against the damp cell's wall, fighting a growing dizziness. He still felt hollow and empty, but his entire being had been warmed up by Kilgharrah's words. _A dragonlord's bond to a dragon is stronger than a mere ritual. And so is your bond to magic. No spell could ever completely break it, young warlock._ He let out a small relieved smile and looked up, fighting to focus his eyes on his older brother's face.

"Kilgharrah is coming."

His voice echoed on the cell's bare walls and assaulted his already aching head. He shaked again, and fought to keep standing. The world swam out of focus as his legs nearly gave out.

Arthur came to him and took his arm to help him stand. He frowned as he felt his friend's radiating fever.

"Merlin, you should lie down..."

"We don't have time. The Great Dragon will be here in a few minutes."

Iseldir nodded at Emrys' words before concentrating. The prophecised Knights of the Round Table had just been locked in a cell next to them. He closed his eyes and mentally reached out to the five men. The Knights nearly jumped as they heard the druid's voice in their heads.

_"The Great Dragon is coming to break us out."_

* * *

A few minutes later, the ground of the cell began to shake. The city's walls swayed as the Great Dragon's flapping wings created dust storms in the castle's courtyard.

Merlin, who had sat down again after a violent wave of dizziness and was on the brink of passing out, was startled awake by a voice in his head.

"_Merlin, I am in the courtyard. We do not have much time, young warlock. Tell everyone to stand clear of the outside walls."_

Before cutting their mental communication, Kilgharrah sent a reinvigorating spell to Merlin. The young Prince retrieved some colour and breathed in. He nodded mentally, stood up, and shouted.

"Keep away from the outside wall!"

The thick stone wall was blasted out of existence by Kilgharrah's great claws. After a small instant of awestruck silence, the Knights in the nearby cell cheered.

* * *

Iseldir was walking out of the cell, shielding his eyes against the bright midday light, when he made a sign for all to stop.

"I am being mentally contacted by the other druids."

He closed his eyes and opened his mind to the druid trying to make a mental link with him.

_"Iseldir, it is Blowan."_

The druid chieftain frowned. Blowan was barely of age, and he did not want her to be hurt.

_"Blowan! Where are you?"_

_"I am in Camelot, I came with the other druids. We followed the Essetian troops who were leaving the plains of Niht through Morgana's portal. Most of the Camelotians have been restrained by the possessed army and are locked in the houses of the lower town. We have managed to gather some knights. We just saw the Great Dragon flying over the city. What must we do?"_

Iseldir looked over the destroyed city and replied.

_We are going to free the Camelotians and end this._

* * *

Blowan and her older brother Ailnor were running through the small alleys of Camelot's lower town. Along with the other druids and knights, they had already freed a good part of the inhabitants.

The Camelotians were confused by the last days, but the druids did not have time to explain to them that they had been broken out of a controlling spell and then were attacked by a possessed army from Essetir.

The Camelotians had been hesitant to trust the druids at first. After all, the ban on magic was still in place and the younger people had been raised to fear magic. But a dark-skinned woman had stepped up and reminded the people that the druids were peaceful and only wanted to help, and that Morgana was still controlling the city.

Blowan would never have believed to live to see a day during which druids and Camelotians fought together. She looked up at the white towers of the citadel, smiled with the hope of a better future, and kept running.

* * *

Morgana saw the Great Dragon destroying Camelot's dungeons from the windows of her old bedroom, and seethed. Moriarty had Emrys' magic, her enemies had been set loose, and her own magic was still depleted from her encounter with Merlin.

But she still had Essetir's army under her command, and after destroying the Camelotians one by one, she would crush Moriarty. She opened the drawer of her small cabinet and looked at a ruby pendant. No one would guess that the Essetian possession spell's source was this little jewel. She closed the drawer with a locking spell and put a curse around it.

Standing up, she took out her sister's black crystals, her last reserves of magic, and smashed them on the ground. The powers that had been accumulating there for years flew into her veins. She looked at her eerie pitch black eyes in the mirror of her cabinet and smirked. Without looking back, she left her room in a whirlwind and appeared in the castle's courtyard.

* * *

Mycroft was walking in the rubble of the wall that Kilgharrah had just smashed down when he noticed the wind picking up at the center of the courtyard below.

"To the ground!"

Just as the knights, the druids and the monarchs threw themselves down, a sickly green bolt coursed above their heads. Mycroft waited for a few instants before looking up.

Morgana was standing in a swirl of black and green lights. She had set her evil eyes on Merlin, who had stumbled and was lying next to Mycroft.

The King of Semloh did not wait for her to attack his little brother. He shouted.

"Morgana!"

The witch looked at him and met his stare. Mycroft smirked - _she had no idea of what he could do_ -. He let his consciousness flow towards hers. He saw her fear at her magic, her anger at King Uther's unfair laws, her feelings of betrayal and hatred towards her brother and Merlin, her conspiracies with Moriarty... He was nearly thrown out as Morgana realised he was reading her mind, but he held on. _The possession spell on Essetir's army... her bedroom... a ruby._

He blinked and abruptly cut the connection.

Morgana collapsed to the ground, holding her head, as the presence in her mind roughly left.

Mycroft looked at his companions. Most were staring at the witch and wondering aloud why she had collapsed. Sherlock met Mycroft's gaze and silenced the others. Mycroft nodded and whispered.

"The spell enslaving the Essetians is fixed on a ruby pendant. She has hidden it in a drawer of her old bedroom."

King Arthur somberly nodded.

"I will go there and destroy the source. I think that I know the jewel. I gave a ruby to her years ago, and she must have thought it would be ironic for my gift to be my own downfall."

Alaric stood up with Arthur.

"I am going with you. Morgana might have placed magical traps there."

The King smiled at him. He looked at Merlin, his knights, and his other companions with a worried expression, turned, and gestured Alaric to follow.

* * *

Gwaine watched his King leave with the young druid before looking at Morgana. The witch was still moaning on the ground. Essetian troops were filling the courtyard. He stood up as one with the other round-table knights and King Mycroft, took out his sword, and shouted.

"For Camelot!"

He ran, exhilarated at feeling himself move freely after days of imprisonment. He dived into battle, swinging his sword left and right, careful not to fatally injure any of his opponents. A swooshing sound was heard overhead, and he let himself fall to the ground as the Great Dragon breathed flames over the courtyard, that seemed to only burn the enemies. He looked around for the other knights and heard Morgana shriek. She was fighting against Iseldir and King Mycroft, who was surprisingly holding his ground. Gwaine smiled; he held a deep dislike of nobility, but this was Merlin's brother, and Merlin was his best friend. Of course his brother, even if he was a King, would be awesome.

He joined the foreign King and parried one of Morgana's spells before attacking.

* * *

Sherlock grimly looked at the battle taking place in the courtyard below and turned towards his younger brother. Merlin was breathing shallowly as he tried to get up and join the others in battle. Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder.

"Merlin, follow me. We cannot win while Moriarty..."

Merlin looked at him, took a deep breath, and tried to calm his shaking hands.

"...Has my magic." He closed his eyes.

Sherlock put an arm under Merlin's shoulder and stabilised him before starting to walk. He frowned as he felt Merlin nearly collapse, but his brother stumbled and kept walking.

"I think Moriarty is in the throne room..."

Sherlock looked at the young warlock with a small smile.

"Lead the way, brother."

* * *

The magic Kilgharrah had used to give some energy to Merlin had not held long. The Prince was feeling the emptiness gnawing at his whole being, wrenching away his senses, tunnelling his vision. He felt the heat radiating from his brow, but he was excruciatingly cold. His whole body shook, and Merlin did not know if it was from the cold, from the shock of losing his magic, or simply because he was dying. The warlock could not remember ever feeling so weak. Even the mortaeus poison had not affected him this much.

He had felt a spark of hope at Kilgharrah's words, but as always, his message was cryptic, and Merlin did not know if he had enough time to decipher it before...

He fought not to pass out from sheer, unimaginable exhaustion, as he watched as Arthur left with Alaric to look for the pendant, as his friends ran into battle. And he knew it was just the beginning of the fight. Morgana was holding on her magic - Merlin guessed it was still severely weak because of him -, and Moriarty, who had taken his magic, was yet to make an appearance. It was only a matter of minutes before the rebellion was restrained and all was lost.

He felt Sherlock's hand on his shoulder, and looked into his eyes. They conveyed anger, worry, and love. Merlin held onto this. He held onto his older brother's presence and pushed the darkness down. He could not fail.

As he started to walk – which was more leaning against his brother and trying not to stumble over the rubble than actual walking -, he concentrated. He thought about how he usually felt his magic swirl contentedly inside him, how complete it made him feel. He looked inside himself, at the empty, swirling void that he had tried to contain, and let the pain flow through him. He sagged, but kept fighting. He let himself feel the fresh breeze ruffling his hair; he recalled the song of the birds that had been chirping in the courtyard a few days before. He let himself bond with nature.

He was Emrys. He was magic itself. And magic was untameable.

He felt something shift inside him.

He nearly gasped in realisation. He could feel where Moriarty was. If he closed his eyes, he could hear a faded gold hum coming from the throne room. And that meant... his magic senses were slowly coming back to him.

* * *

**Only one or two chapters left. I should publish them within the week.**

**Thank you for reading :D**


	25. Chapter 24

**Hey!**

**Here is the next installment :)**

**Thank you so much for your review, WAY :D You convinced me to publish this chapter right away!**

* * *

Alaric was running alongside Arthur Pendragon through the maze that was the castle of Camelot. A few days before, this situation would have seemed completely impossible and unimaginable, but there he was. A lot had changed over the past few days.

Arthur turned right and Alaric followed him up a narrow staircase before stopping in front of an ornate, thick wooden door.

"This is it."

Alaric nodded and prodded the door for any traps. He found none.

"There are no spells on the door."

Arthur grimly smiled.

"It seems that Morgana thought we would not know where the source was."

Alaric nodded, and whispered the opening spell – _Abregdan_ -, and the door's lock shifted. Arthur gave a small smile to the druid and pushed the door open.

The room had not changed since Morgana had turned dark. Arthur swallowed a painful, anguished lump in his throat. He closed his eyes and blocked the images of what _could_ have been if he had not been so blind to Morgana's suffering.

Alaric looked at him before stepping inside the room. Once again, he held out his hand and probed the room for spells.

There was nothing, except...

Dark magic was emanating from a drawer, just as King Mycroft had said. The druid marveled at the monarch's unique ability to read minds before gesturing Arthur to come closer.

"It is in the drawer. I will open it first."

Arthur looked at him, alarmed.

"Don't! I do not want you to be hit by a curse."

Alaric laughed a little, still pleasantly surprised that a Pendragon would worry about a druid. This truly was the beginning of a new era – that is, if they won the battle against the evil witch and the Essetian King -.

"I will perform a few spells first, Sire. Do not worry."

His eyes flashed gold as he chanted.

"_Awiergednes ábrecan, scildan fréawine emel mec."_

A dark, sizzling sound came from the drawer. The King looked at him questioningly.

"That was the curse. I just made it leave and protected us from any backlash effects."

His companion nodded and opened the drawer.

A ruby pendant was hidden under some clothes. The King looked at the druid. Alaric took the pendant, and whispered:

"_Ende_."

A great light erupted from the pendant before spreading out of the room.

Alaric heard surprised shouts coming from the courtyard. They had succeeded! He let out a relieved laugh.

* * *

Leon paused as an eerie, blinding light spread over Camelot. It seemed Arthur and Alaric had succeeded. Leon allowed himself a silent whoop before schooling his features.

The Essetian man he had been sparing with suddenly jerked and looked at him, holding his hands up.

"I am no enemy, Camelotian."

The man shouted to all:

"Let's kill the witch for what she has done to us."

Other Essetian soldiers brandished their swords and screamed.

"For Albion!"

Leon and the Camelotians joined in their battle cries as they all ran towards Morgana.

The witch was holding her own against the Camelotian and Essetian armies, shooting spells and swirling her sword around her.

Even the Great Dragon's flames did not seem to touch her.

Her spells were all pitch black, and deadly. She pushed the druid chieftain, Iseldir, away from her and kept her opponents away with her sword as she started a long, threatening chant. With a final shout, dozens of black forms, shades, appeared in the courtyard. Each shade jumped on the nearest soldiers, who died as soon as they were touched.

Leon and the other knights stared. This was a nightmare.

Without waiting, the druids formed a circle around the courtyard and chanted. The blades of all the soldiers suddenly blazed with blue flames. Leon tentatively stabbed a shade. It burst in flames and disappeared.

The battle resumed, but the number of shades and other magical animals did not diminish under the blows of the fighters. Giants, griffins, snakes and overgrown birds appeared out of thin air around the courtyard.

Leon frowned. After parrying the axe of a three headed giant, he looked up.

Morgana was standing on the balcony from which Uther had led the sorcerers' executions during the great Purge. Her arms were raised towards the sky as she brought more monsters to life in the courtyard.

A druid noticed her too and transported himself towards her in a whirlwind, but she jumped from the balcony and disappeared from sight. Leon sighed before dodging a blow from a shade.

This was a massacre.

* * *

Merlin was gradually feeling stronger as he stumbled towards the throne room with Sherlock. They finally came to a stop in front of the heavy wooden doors.

Sherlock looked at him with a worried expression.

"Merlin, I think I have a way to counteract the ritual. Just... trust me, alright?"

Merlin squeezed Sherlock's hand with a worried frown but nodded. Both opened the doors to the throne room.

* * *

Moriarty was sitting on Arthur's throne, looking pleased with himself. His eyes were coloured with a dull yellow - a remnant of Merlin's glorious gold -. Geoffrey of Monmouth was standing next to him, his actions mechanic, as if Moriarty was controlling his movement with an unseen force – which was most certainly the case -. The older man was speaking solemn words while his eyes betrayed a silent warning to the two newcomers.

"...and let us crown King Moriarty of Camelot and Essetir!"

Moriarty was taking the crown from Geoffrey of Monmouth's hands when he noticed the two Princes.

"I see you have joined me, little Princes... Be the first to acclaim my new reign."

Sherlock felt a crushing force him to his knees and bend his head towards the ground. Before he could speak, Moriarty's mocking voice resounded again on the throne room's white stones.

"Oh, wait. I want everyone to witness your downfall."

In a blink, the room's occupants found themselves in the same position, but in the courtyard of Camelot. With a lazy wave of his hand, Moriarty pushed the fighters away from the central courtyard, and locked Sherlock, Merlin and himself in a shimmering globe.

Morgana, who had been fighting off the druids, the Camelotians and the Essetians, shrieked in anger. Rolling his eyes, Moriarty silenced the outside of the globe with a spell.

He looked around the crowd and saw the Great Dragon fuming at him and the ex-Kings of Camelot and of Semloh banging against his magical wall.

Smriking at Sherlock and Merlin, he put an amplifying spell on his voice and proclaimed to all:

"I am the new King of Albion. Bow to me, the Once and Future King who possesses the powers of Emrys."

Sherlock swallowed any protest, not wanting to bring the madman's wrath onto his brother.

He tried to call onto his ability of blocking any magic, but it seemed as if Moriarty's spell was unbudgeable. As the renegade laughed, his voice booming around the courtyard, Sherlock looked at his brother.

Merlin was kneeling next to him. But he was jerking, gasping. His eyes met Sherlock's with a frightening plea. Moriarty had removed all air around Merlin, who was choking in silence next to him.

His voice wavered as he called out.

"Moriarty, stop!"

Sherlock could feel his cousin's crazed eyes trained on him.

"Say please, Sherly..."

Sherlock did not hesitate.

"Please, Moriarty, let Merlin breathe!"

Merlin's movements were slurring...

"I beg of you, King Moriarty. Let Merlin live."

A maniac laugh echoed around the room as Merlin collapsed on the ground and painfully breathed in.

Sherlock felt Moriarty's concentration wavering as he mocked him. He took his chance as Moriarty raved again.

"How does it feel, cousin, to be bested by me? To kneel and submit yourself to a renegade?"

Sherlock ignored him and let out an angry shout as a golden light blazed around him. As the last shreds of oppressive magic vanished from around him, he spat out.

"It feels ridiculously ephemeral, Moriarty."

Not leaving time for Moriarty to recover from his surprise, he ran towards him and gripped both his arms. A string of Old Language words escaped his lips. Sherlock did not stop to wonder how he knew these eerie words, and let the chant flow through him. Golden blazes were leaving Moriarty and shooting towards Merlin.

Moriarty growled, and blasted Sherlock away. The Prince hit the magical barrier before standing up again. Moriarty shot a green spell towards him, but Sherlock waved it away.

Suddenly, Moriarty shook.

A bright light flooded the courtyard. It was not a threatening flame, nor an aggressive one. It was one of pure, raw joy.

* * *

Merlin was frustrated beyond belief. These last few days had been really trying on his patience.

He had been captured, restrained, locked away, healed, injured, imprisoned again, and hurt yet again.

Just as he had felt his magic returning to him on its own, Moriarty had gone and tried to choke him. Merlin had spent his last forces on not dying from the lack of air, and was left panting on the ground as Sherlock risked his life for him yet again. Sherlock, who had already ridden from Semloh, to Camelot, to Essetir, who had grieved for him for years, who had kept endangering his life for him as he was unable to protect himself properly. And now, Sherlock was being attacked by his own magic in another's hands. In the hands of the one who had taken him away from his family, who had poisoned Arthur and tortured them both.

It was his turn to protect his friends and family.

He felt his magic return to him, felt whole again... but Moriarty managed to cut the flow and began to steal Merlin's magic back for himself.

Merlin, using what magic he had managed to keep, stood up and closed his eyes.

He would not lose his magic again.

He did not _have_ magic. Magic was who he was.

Time slowed down and came to a halt. Merlin relaxed and cleared his mind of what was happening around him.

Instead of feeling what was inside himself, he focused on the world around him. He felt his friends' pain and hope, his brothers' strength and anger, the Camelotians' confusion and resolve. He looked even beyond, and felt himself engulfed in all-encompassing, protective Nature. Flows of pure light spread over the land, converged through him. He grinned. Energy came rushing back at him, and he let it flow freely through his veins. The warlock smiled with exhilaration as time resumed its course. He opened his blazing eyes.

Moriarty, for all the powers that he had wrongly stolen, was no match to magic itself.

Without a word, Merlin walked towards the renegade King, who was shouting spell after spell at him in desperation. Moriarty's unnatural magic did not even come close to the warlock. It faded out of existence as soon as it was unleashed.

Merlin spoke in the language of the Old Religion, infusing his words with magic.

"Moriarty, you have wronged magic itself. You have disrupted the natural flow of the world."

The traitor tried to hide his panic, but his wide, uncomprehending eyes betrayed his feelings.

"I have to break the ritual and take magic away from you. You were not meant for such power."

Merlin looked at him with a resigned expression.

"I am sorry for what you have become."

Moriarty closed his eyes as a yellow light left his body. His face betrayed no emotion.

The shimmering barrier separating the courtyard disappeared. Whispers erupted from the crowd.

Merlin avoided the stares as his eyes returning to their intense blue.

He turned towards Sherlock, but nearly walked into Morgana. The witch was right in front of him, a murderous glint in her black eyes. Merlin moved back into a fighting stance.

He heard Arthur's shout before he felt it.

"Watch out!"

Merlin turned around again, holding a golden shield in front of him. Moriarty was running towards him, a knife in his hand.

Sherlock did not wait to see if Merlin's shield held, and tackled his brother to the ground.

The knife buried itself in Morgana's arm.

The witch screamed, wrenched the knife from her arm. She examined it with a dark expression, laughed, and plunged it in Moriarty's chest.

The crowd jumped in shock, and watched as the renegade King let out a smile. He collapsed on the ground.

"This... is not... the end."

With a tremor, his body disappeared from the courtyard.

Merlin shivered.

Feeling a sudden inflow of magic, he looked up at Morgana, who was whispering a transportation spell. His eyes flared up with anger and she was frozen in place. The warlock looked at Arthur before knocking the witch out and binding her magic with a flash of his eyes.

* * *

**Only one chapter left (normally...) :D Don't forget to review!**


	26. Chapter 25

**Hey!**

**I have no excuse for not updating earlier. Final exams happened, and then every time I sat down to write this final chapter, I couldn't decide what to do to Morgana, or how to end this fic (you will see after reading this that I ended up not deciding and leaving all the doors open :D).**

**Don't forget to review!**

* * *

Merlin turned in his bed, stirring contentedly, before opening his eyes. He looked on his right out of the window, and simply lay on his back, listening to the birds, while he traced the contours of the citadel with his bright blue eyes.

He frowned. He was leaving Camelot today. His brothers, Arthur, the knights, a couple of druids, Gaius and his mother were going to Semloh for victory celebrations. Merlin could not help but sense that his brothers, especially Mycroft, wanted him to stay in Semloh and not come back to live in Camelot. But Merlin did not feel like a Prince – a few days ago he was but a manservant, albeit an all-powerful manservant-. He had enjoyed his life in Camelot as a hidden warlock, and although the "hidden" part was no more now that the whole kingdom knew that Merlin rhymed with Emrys, he really wanted to keep his life as a servant to Arthur, apprentice to Gaius and protector of the city.

He knew that he would take up his responsibilities without a doubt if need arose, but Camelot was his home, not Semloh.

But afterall, he had magic, so he could just teleport between the two kingdoms with just a thought. He smiled at that realisation.

Looking at the sun, he yawned again, stretching, before hopping out of his bed, jumping down the small steps and greeting Gaius with a large grin.

Gaius looked up from the parchment he was scribbling on.

"Merlin, have you finished packing? We are leaving in an hour!

Merlin rolled his eyes, waving his fingers in the air and making golden sparks dance between them.

"You do know that if I forget something, I can teleport myself here and back again?"

Gaius stood up with a fond smile, before taking the parchment he had been writing on and handing it to the warlock.

"I know, my boy, I know. That is why I am sending you to collect some plants for me before we leave." He smirked, and gave the manservant-turned-prince a ruffled bag.

Merlin stuck his tongue out at him before hopping out of the room and heading towards the forest.

He could see the knights and the druids having a last training session before leaving for Semloh. Since the battle, they had organised shared trainings to learn how to fight hand in hand; Arthur had told Merlin of his plans for the druids' living arrangements.

He crossed the market place, observing the people around him with a smile. Some stopped him, thanking him, staring at him with awe. All had a spring in their step; druids and Camelotians went side by side in the gently starting morning. He laughed quietly – Uther would have a fit just thinking about such a peaceful, harmonious scene -.

He was just reaching the city's gates when someone called his name. He turned and greeted his brothers with a wide smile.

"Mycroft, Sherly! Are you up to collecting some plants in the forest before we head to Semloh?"

The eldest royals looked at each other with a smile, nodded, and all went into the forest.

* * *

Sherlock watched with twinkling eyes as his younger brother explained to Mycroft and him the uses of all the plants he collected with the ease of a practiced physician. Merlin seemed relaxed, far from the worries of the previous days.

The Semlohians, King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, and the Camelotian council had gone through hours of debate on what to do with Morgana, who was currently held in the dungeon, her magic bound by Merlin. The warlock had healed the knife wound on her arm; Moriarty's blade had been poisoned and she would have died within minutes if not for Merlin.

The last week had been exhausting for his little brother. Sherlock could see from how Merlin acted around Morgana during the cell interrogations that he could not bring himself to hate her or let her suffer; having to debate on how to execute her and the renegade sorcerers who had not died in battle had taken its toll on the young warlock. The day before, during yet another council meeting, some had shouted for execution by pyre, blaming Merlin for healing Morgana's arm; others had asked for exile. The matter was still undecided, but for now all were heading to Semloh to congratulate the army and celebrate the victory for a few days.

Sherlock was abruptly shaken from his thoughts by Camelot's infamous warning bells, which started to ring through the forest. Mycroft looked up sharply, ready to run back to the citadel, but Merlin laughed.

"That must be Arthur getting really annoyed at me because we are not yet at the meeting point. Hold onto my arm."

The three brothers disappeared from the forest, teleported away by a flash of Merlin's eyes.

* * *

Merlin watched as his surroundings gradually changed from the forest to the main courtyard. It slowly appeared in full view; his two brothers let go of his arm.

Merlin sensed Arthur walking up from behind him, ready to scold him for nearly being late. He turned with a sheepish smile. He was just meeting the King's eyes when a loud shriek resounded in his ears, tearing through his body.

Darkness engulfed him.

Merlin swallowed in.

Silence.

Overwhelming silence was all that greeted him.

His legs nearly gave out as he vividly recalled the sensations at losing his magic a few days prior. As if to reassure him, his magic swirled inside him, humming in his ears. Merlin held up a shaky palm.

A bird squawked overhead, making the young warlock jump.

Taking a small, shaking breath, he whispered:

"Leóth."

A soothingly warm flame appeared in his open palm, lighting up his surroundings.

Camelot's courtyard gradually fizzled into existence around him. It was empty.

Merlin had a double-take at that; the flame in his hand nearly flickered out.

Holding his hand a bit higher, he poured more magic into the spell.

All the celebrating banners, all the flowers, everything had seemingly vanished. Even the courtyard seemed different.

Merlin felt a rush of dizziness swallow him, making him stagger. The magic around him felt different, faint and tainted.

He was about to probe out his surroundings with a flash of his eyes when he felt something cold dig into his neck from behind. A low, baritone voice broke the crushing silence.

"Who are you?"

Merlin's neck burnt where the cold object was touching him. That unnatural thing was making his magic recoil. With his last shreds of strength, he turned, but did not get to see the face of the mysterious man. Black dots permeated his sight and magic hums rushed to his eardrums as he collapsed.

* * *

**Conspiracies will have a sequel.**

**Now the thing is: what kind of universe would you like?**

**A story still based in the Merlin universe?**

**A story based in the Sherlock BBC timeline?**

**Or a new crossover with another fandom aka Harry Potter or maybe the Avengers?**

**Or just a proper epilogue disregarding this last sequence and putting a nice happy ending to this fanfic?**

**In any case, don't forget to comment, and if you do want a sequel I will try to update it more regularly than this fic. Having a new plot to work on should boost my writing (writing an end to this fic was really hard as I could not bring me to wrap this up).**

**Airin9**


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